


Where There Are Octobers

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Co-workers, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hence the T rating for safety, Little bit of smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mostly Fluff, various scenarios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 44,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!

  -Rainbow Rowell, Attachments

  A ficlet collection inspired by my favorite month.





	1. Grande Pumpkin Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” a slightly raspy male voice sounds, and Steve looks up to see the brunet - _Bucky_ \- squatting in front of him, his brow furrowed in concern. “You all right, pal?”
> 
> Steve’s never seen the other man’s eyes up close, and Christ, are they beautiful. They’re a dark gray-blue color, and Steve can’t help but gasp out a soft, almost-reverent, “Wow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I decided to challenge myself a bit (because I have zero self control when it comes to writing) and do a ficlet collection for October. One fic a day for 31 days is the plan. It'll be mostly fluff, but I imagine some mild smut will slip in here and there. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!!

The guy’s name is Bucky. Which, if Steve’s being honest with himself, is sort of an odd name for an adult man.

Steve’s seen him in Starbucks just about every morning since he started working at Shield Graphics and Design at the beginning of September. The coffee chain is around the corner from the office, and Steve’s just as hooked on the sway of the lean brunet’s slim hips as he is on the hazelnut macchiato he orders most mornings. 

Steve doesn’t need to be in the office until eight every day, but after seeing the brunet standing in line or sitting and reading in one of the cozy armchairs in the corner on a handful of mornings when sleep had eluded him, Steve decides to make an early start his new habit. So, he orders. He sits and sips. He reads the news or a book on his tablet and hopes in vain that maybe the brunet will strike up a conversation with him one of these days.

Or perhaps that  _ he’ll  _ finally get up the courage to approach the gorgeous stranger.

Before today, Steve had simply referred to the brunet as “Grande Pumpkin Spice” in his head, since that’s the man’s standard order each morning. Once in a while he deviates and gets a Salted Caramel Mocha, but it’s not like Steve’s paying painstaking attention to him or anything like that. The Starbucks just isn’t usually that crowded at 6:30, which is around the time when they show up, so the baristas don’t bother with names.

But there’s a convention of some sort in town this week, so the Starbucks is a goddamn mob scene at 6:30 on an unseasonably cold October morning. Still, Steve spots the brunet as they’re both waiting for their orders. He’s wearing a bright red bobble hat that Steve does not find unbearably cute at all. 

“Bucky!” a buxom twenty-something with lavender streaks weaving their way through her dark hair shouts, and the brunet reaches for the cup with a polite smile. Steve wonders what it would like to be on the receiving end of that perfect grin and thinks he’d probably faint or something equally embarrassing. He also wonders how anyone who works with the guy ever gets anything done; Steve only sees him once a day from a distance, and it usually takes him hours to get those plush lips and that soft-looking hair out of his head. 

Steve’s so caught up in his thoughts that when they call his name a beat later, he moves forward without looking, his foot catching the strap of some businessman’s briefcase at the foot of a nearby table. The sound that comes from his mouth could best be characterized as a yelp, and Steve’s blushing before he hits the floor, the hard tile biting into his knees.  _ Perfect. _

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph” a slightly raspy male voice sounds, and Steve looks up to see the brunet -  _ Bucky _ \- squatting in front of him, his brow furrowed in concern. “You all right, pal?”

Steve’s never seen the other man’s eyes up close, and  _ Christ _ , are they beautiful. They’re a dark gray-blue color, and Steve can’t help but gasp out a soft, almost-reverent, “Wow.”

The man’s stormy eyes widen in surprise and his lips curl up into a smile. “Ditto, pretty boy. Now, one more time, are you all right?”

“Um, yeah,” Steve stammers, feeling his face grow even hotter as the brunet regards him with a sly grin. “Yeah, I just. Tripped.”

“I gathered that,” Bucky’s voice is dry and amused, and Steve sort of wishes he could just crawl under one of these tables and live there forever, out of sight and out of mind. “Come on.”

Bucky extends his hand, his smile widening so that his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Steve lets the other man help him up. 

“Steve, huh?” The other man asks, not letting go of Steve’s hand. “I’m Bucky.”

“I know,” Steve replies, eyes widening at his too-eager answer. “I mean, I heard them call it and it’s not really a name you hear often, so-”

“Right,” Bucky interrupts him, smirking, and Steve is going to burst into actual flames if this conversation continues. “You gotta get to work right away?”

“No,” Steve answers, unable to focus on anything but the wicked twist of the other man’s lips and the way Bucky’s warm palm feels in his hand.

“Great,” Bucky chuckles. “Listen, it’s awful crowded in here, and I know you usually hang around for a while.”

“You do?” Steve is perplexed; Bucky’s spared him only a handful of passing glances in the month or so he’s been frequenting this Starbucks. 

“You’re not the only one stealing a look now and again, you know,” Bucky grins, giving Steve a mischievous once-over, and Steve is going to combust now, he really is. “Why don’t you get your coffee, and then you and I can mosey on over to the diner up the road and grab breakfast?”

“Grab breakfast,” Steve repeats. “You want to grab breakfast with me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s smile is still wide, but his eyes look a little uncertain now. “Whaddaya say?”

Steve finally manages a real smile as he walks off to retrieve his beverage then strides back to Bucky’s side. 

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I have a number of ficlets in progress and completed, but please feel free to send me requests for this collection via [my tumblr. In fact, I encourage you to do so :)](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/)


	2. Check You For Ticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘Cha starin’ at, Stevie?” Steve’s jolted from his thoughts by Bucky’s laughter. The brunet is grinning, and Steve’s heart starts to race at the mischievous look in his eyes.
> 
> “Um,” Steve begins, eloquent as always. How he’s managed not to slip up and reveal his feelings in all the years he and Bucky have known each other, he really can’t say. “You’ve got a, uh, a leaf in your hair.”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve and Bucky get a little distracted while doing yard work.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a lovely tumblr user who wanted Steve and Bucky enjoying the autumn foliage and then enjoying each other :) Hope you enjoy!

“I cannot believe-” Bucky huffs as he rakes leaves into a tidy pile in Steve’s backyard- “That you’re makin’ me do yard work on a fuckin’ Saturday.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs, dropping one of the large brown paper bags their township provides for leaf collection each fall. “I’m not _makin’_ you do anythin’, jerk. You offered to help me because the yard’s big and you wanted to hang out today.”

Bucky grumbles under his breath about “punks who think they’re somethin’ special just because they can afford a mortgage payment,” but there’s a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips as he inhales the scent of the fallen leaves. Steve shakes his head, chuckling softly at his friend.

Steve gets why people love fall foliage; the bright reds, oranges and yellows are beautiful. But he’s more interested in Bucky in snug, light-wash jeans and a forest green henley stretched tight across his shoulders.  His soft dark hair is tied back and the stubble gracing his strong jaw gives him a ruggedly handsome look.

“‘Cha starin’ at, Stevie?” Steve’s jolted from his thoughts by Bucky’s laughter. The brunet is grinning, and Steve’s heart starts to race at the mischievous look in his eyes.

“Um,” Steve begins, eloquent as always. How he’s managed not to slip up and reveal his feelings in all the years he and Bucky have known each other, he really can’t say. “You’ve got a, uh, a leaf in your hair.”

Bucky’s smirking as he makes his way over to Steve, steely eyes sparkling. “Well, why don’t you take care of that?”

Steve nods, trying to remember how to breathe with Bucky standing so close as he plucks the leaf from his friend’s hair. The other man stands there, smiling cryptically as Steve tosses it to the ground.

“Thanks, pal,” Bucky chuckles, then reaches down, scoops up a handful of leaves from the pile Steve’s been working on bagging, and _shoves them down the front of Steve’s flannel._

“Jesus!” Steve yelps, dancing around and shaking out his shirt, laughing at Bucky as he settles onto the grass, wheezing. “You fuckin’ jerk!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky gasps, a wide smile stretched across his handsome face. “Whaddaya gonna do about it, punk?”

Steve grins, then tackles his friend into the pile of leaves.

 

* * *

 

“That’s how it is, huh?” Bucky laughs as Steve pins him, loving the feel of the blond against him. Bucky’s been lowkey into Steve since they were in high school, half in love with him for years now, and he gets a thrill whenever his friend touches him. “Show you a thing or two, Rogers.”

“Yeah right, I’m bigger than - fuck!” Steve yelps as Bucky uses his hips to buck Steve up and off of him, and then the two of them are rolling around, wrestling like a couple of rowdy kids in the leaves. Bucky’s mesmerized by the sound of Steve laughing, the way he gasps in a breath as Bucky manages to gain the upper hand, straddling him with a triumphant cry.

“Can’t beat me, Rogers,” Bucky grins down, his hands splayed across Steve’s broad chest. “You’re not underhanded enough.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve smirks, and then he’s grabbing Bucky by the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Steve’s mouth is warm and soft, and Bucky can’t help whimpering when Steve nips at his bottom lip.

Steve jolts back at the sound, his eyes wide with fear as he looks up at Bucky. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was- I shouldn’t have-”

“Yes,” Bucky murmurs as he leans down, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s. “Yes, you should have.”

“Buck?” Steve’s voice is uncertain, but his eyes are so full of hope Bucky can hardly breathe.

“Steve,” Bucky smiles, capturing the blond’s lips, his tongue pushing into Steve’s mouth, desperate to map the unfamiliar terrain. Steve groans, the vibrations singing through Bucky, and he can’t keep from rolling his hips into Steve’s.

“Christ, Buck,” Steve moans as Bucky peppers kisses along his jawline and then begins sucking a mark into his neck. “I got - _shit -_ I got neighbors.”

Bucky chuckles against Steve’s throat before rising and pulling Steve with him. “Come on, then, Rogers. Rollin’ around in these leaves is a health hazard. I’ll have to check you for ticks.”

“You’re so fuckin’ weird, Barnes,” Steve laughs, but his eyes are dark with desire as he takes Bucky’s hand and leads him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Have an October prompt/request? Feel free to get in touch with my via [my tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Aw, Nuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve looks down at the cookie, his expression wary, as though it’s a wild animal. Bucky has to fight back a laugh as Steve takes a tentative bite.
> 
> “These are really good,” Steve nods as he chews, then asks in the most matter-of-fact voice Bucky’s ever heard. “Pecans?”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve should really know better than to just bite into a baked good.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a prompt about Person A baking cookies and Person B trying one despite a nut allergy, and well, here we are. Hope you enjoy this one!

“Hey, Rogers,” Steve looks up from the invitation he’s designing for a wedding and is met with the silvery eyes that feature so prominently in all of his fantasies. Bucky Barnes is standing there smiling at him like Steve’s the only person in the world who matters at the moment, and as usual, Steve’s heart begins triphammering in his chest. “Made some pumpkin cookies to celebrate the season. They’re in the kitchen if you want any.”

“Oh,” Steve blinks owlishly, grinning in return. “Thanks, Bucky.”

The brunet nods, striding off to his desk, whistling a happy little tune.

Bucky’s one of the top planners at Elegant Events Incorporated, and Steve’s not really sure what he’s done to garner the man’s attention. He usually just sits in his cubicle working on invites, fliers and other design elements the planners need, occasionally breaking to grab lunch with Sam, the company accountant and the friend who’d recommended Steve for the job.

But Bucky makes a point of stopping by Steve’s desk a couple of times a day to chat. Sometimes it’s about work, more often it’s not. Bucky’s consistently inviting Steve out for drinks or lunch with the other employees, smiling and nodding politely when Steve comes up with some half-assed excuse as to why he can’t today.

Really, Steve just knows better than to let himself get too attached. Bucky’s tall and leanly-muscled, handsome and confident. Everything scrawny little Steve Roger’s isn’t. Of course, Steve’s developed one hell of a nasty crush on his totally unobtainable co-worker despite Bucky being leaps and bounds out of his league.

Steve sighs, shaking his head, and gets back to work on the invitation.

 

* * *

 

Bucky catches Steve and Sam in the kitchen later that morning, whispering by the coffee machine. Steve’s mouth snaps abruptly shut when he notices Bucky, a light blush coloring his cheeks, and the brunet can’t help but grin.

Bucky sees the way the blond looks at him when Steve thinks he’s not paying attention. The thing is, when it comes to Steve, Bucky’s _always_ paying attention. Steve’s on the shorter side, slender and graceful, though Bucky doesn’t think Steve sees it that way. Not if his shy demeanor and his self-deprecating humor are any indication.

Whether Steve believes it or not, Bucky thinks the other man is breathtakingly beautiful. And smart. And kind. And he’s been dropping hints that he’d like to get to know Steve better for nearly two months now. Of course, Steve’s being willfully oblivious to Bucky’s attentions, writing them off as a friendly co-worker just being nice.

Bucky wonders how nice Steve’d think he is if he were privy to the thoughts Bucky’s had of pinning the smaller man against his desk and ravishing him until he’s a sweaty, sated mess.

“Hiya, fellas,” Bucky grins as he approaches them, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring some into his mug. “Try the cookies yet?”

“Oh, man, _you_ made ‘em?” Sam asks with a grin as he turns and grabs a couple of them from the tin on the counter, handing one to Steve. “Steve, Bucky’s an absurd human being, but he bakes a mean cookie.”

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky chuckles, eyes drifting toward Steve. “Well, go on, then.”

Steve looks down at the cookie, his expression wary, as though it’s a wild animal. Bucky has to fight back a laugh as Steve takes a tentative bite.

“These are really good,” Steve nods as he chews, then asks in the most matter-of-fact voice Bucky’s ever heard. “Pecans?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods with a smile, the expression disappearing from his face as Sam sprints out of the kitchen. “Uh, everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve’s starting to look a little puffy, and his voice is somewhat strained, but still calm. “I should have asked. I’m, um, allergic. To nuts.”

“Jesus Christ, Rogers,” Bucky breathes, forcing Steve into a chair and sitting with him until Sam skids back into the kitchen, Steve’s epi-pen in hand.

 

* * *

 

 “I know you keep tellin’ me it’s not my fault,” Bucky murmurs as they’re driving back to the office from the emergency room (he’d insisted on following the ambulance in his car and waiting for Steve, since it was his cookies that had necessitated a trip to the hospital in the first place). “But I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

“Bucky,” Steve grins over at the man in the driver’s seat. “Really, I should have asked. I know better than to just bite into cookies. You just looked so hopeful, and I really like you, so-”

“Hang on a second,” Bucky interrupts Steve with a smile. “You like me? Like, _how_ do you like me?”

“Oh, uh-” Steve stammers, a flush rising to his cheeks. “I just mean, you know, you’re a good guy and it’s nice to have friendly coworkers-”

“You’re a shitty liar, Rogers,” Bucky chuckles, turning into the office parking lot. “I like you too, you know. Been tryin’ to get you to come out with us so I could get to know you. Maybe ask you out.”

“You-” Steve wonders if maybe they shouldn’t go back to the emergency room because all of a sudden, his chest is tight again. “You _like_ me? Enough to ask me out?”

“I do,” Bucky grins, reaching out to run a hand along Steve’s cheek, and the feel of Bucky’s warm fingers against his skin has Steve fighting off a shiver. “So whaddaya think? Let me take you out to dinner sometime?”

“Long as you don’t try to kill me with nuts again,” Steve smirks, his lips widening into a real smile as Bucky laughs. “I think yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests for this collection are strongly encouraged, and you can hit me up on [](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com>tumblr</a>%20if%20you%20have%20something%20you'd%20like%20me%20to%20write.%20Doesn't%20even%20have%20to%20be%20for%20this%20collection;%20all%20requests%20are%20accepted%20:\))


	4. Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky smirks as he reaches Steve, who’s looking a little dazed at the moment. Bucky’s heart is beating double time as he takes in the blond before him. He’s been into Steve for ages, probably longer than he’d been consciously aware of, and all he wants is to figure out if Steve feels the same way.
> 
>  _So, do it,_ Bucky tells himself, taking a deep breath to fortify himself. _If you can’t entice your best friend while wearing black lingerie and fuck-me heels, when_ can _you?_
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Bucky shows off his costume in an attempt to goad Steve into action.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slightly smutty feels for you this morning :) Hope you like it!

_Jesus,_ Steve thinks as Bucky saunters into the living room, grinning wickedly as he shows off his costume. _Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this is how I die._

Bucky had informed Steve and the rest of their friends at the beginning of October that they were going to a showing of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ downtown the Friday before Halloween, and that they’re dressing up whether they like it or not. And while the exhibitionism of these events isn’t exactly Steve’s cup of tea, he’s hard-pressed to say no to his best friend, especially when everyone else agrees with enthusiasm.

Steve and Natasha are going as Brad and Janet (Steve breathes a sigh of relief when Natasha makes the suggestion, secure in the knowledge that the redhead is just trying to make this as painless as possible for him), despite Bucky insisting that Steve would make a brilliant Rocky.

“What with that physique you work so hard to maintain,” Bucky had winked, smirking. Steve had laughed off the comment, just as he always laughed off Bucky’s flirtatious nature. That’s just Bucky’s way.

In the end, Steve holds his ground and Sam bites the bullet and says he’ll dress up as Rocky, much to his girlfriend Maria’s delight.

“Well?” Bucky asks, smiling and twirling, dragging Steve from his thoughts and into the here and now. Bucky, of course, had claimed Dr. Frank N Furter, and he’s a sight to behold in a black corset and panties, his ensemble complete with sheer black stockings, garters, heels and a string of chunky pearls. “What do you think? Authentic enough?”

“Um,” Steve can feel the heat rising to his face, and he knows he must be crimson as Bucky slinks toward him. “Yeah. Very authentic.”

 

* * *

 

 _Now or never_ _, Barnes,_ Bucky tells himself, encouraged by the way Steve’s eyes roam his leanly-muscled frame. _Make your move._

Bucky smirks as he reaches Steve, who’s looking a little dazed at the moment. Bucky’s heart is beating double time as he takes in the blond before him. He’s been into Steve for ages, probably longer than he’d been consciously aware of, and all he wants is to figure out if Steve feels the same way.

 _So, do it,_ Bucky tells himself, taking a deep breath to fortify himself. _If you can’t entice your best friend while wearing black lingerie and fuck-me heels, when_ can _you?_

 

* * *

 

The intensity of Bucky’s gaze is a little overwhelming, Steve thinks, as the brunet stands before him, looking down.

“Authentic enough to seduce the stoic Brad Majors?” Bucky purrs after a pause, slipping into Steve’s lap and wrapping his arms around the blond’s neck.

“Yeah, yeah, funny,” Steve chuckles breathlessly, pushing against Bucky’s chest. “You’re perfect for this, I get it.”

“I don’t think you do, Steve,” Bucky whispers, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s, and suddenly all the air is gone from Steve’s lungs and his mouth is as dry as the fuckin’ Sahara. “I don’t think you get it at all.”

“Buck?” Steve pulls back, evaluating his friend. “What are you sayin’?”

Bucky draws in a deep, shuddering breath and looks up at Steve through dark lashes, and lord almighty, Steve cannot _breathe_.

“I’m sayin’ I want you,” Bucky’s stormy eyes are wide and vulnerable as he runs his fingers through Steve’s short blond hair, tilting his head back slightly, and Steve shivers when he feels Bucky’s breath ghost across the overheated flesh of his neck. “I’ve wanted you a while now, Steve. I want you to have me. If you want that.”

“You’re serious,” Steve breathes. It’s not a question, but Bucky nods, pressing his lips against Steve’s throat. “ _Christ_ , Buck, don’t toy with me.”

“I would never, Stevie,” Bucky replies, then nips at Steve’s sensitive flesh. Steve whines, a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat as Bucky says, “You’re my best friend; I’d never do that. But I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”

“I want you too,” Steve gasps as Bucky rolls his hips, grinding down in Steve’s lap. “God, I want you.”

“All yours, Steve,” Bucky whispers against Steve’s lips like it’s prayer. “Always been yours.”

That’s all Steve needs to hear before he claims Bucky’s mouth, strong arms wrapping around his friend and pulling him close. Bucky moans, and Steve takes the opportunity to tongue his way into the brunet’s mouth. Bucky is soft and pliant against him, and Steve never wants to let the other man go, but he desperately needs to breathe.

“Now the real question,” Steve grins as he pulls back, liking the way Bucky chases his lips. “Is do you want me to peel this costume off of you, or do you want me to fuck you with it on?”

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna come before you fuck me at all,” Bucky chuckles breathlessly.

“Answer the question, Barnes,” Steve growls, biting down on Bucky’s collarbone and reveling in the way the brunet shudders against him.

“You kinky fuck,” Bucky rasps with a laugh, rolling his hips, moaning when Steve grips them tight. “On.”

Steve takes Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucks until the brunet is writhing in his lap. “Right, and _I’m_ the kinky fuck.”

“Shut up and take me to bed, Rogers,” Bucky giggles as he tugs Steve up from the couch. “I’ve waited long enough, and I don’t need your fuckin’ lip, you punk.”

Steve chuckles, deep and dark as he takes Bucky’s hand and follows the brunet into his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests for this collection (or, really, any requests at all) are encouraged! You can send me ideas via [my tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com).


	5. We Could Flip a Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Flip a coin?” the blond suggests pulling a quarter from his pocket. “I’ll even let you call it.”
> 
> “How magnanimous,” Bucky drawls, but he can’t keep the grin from his face. “All right, pal. Heads.”
> 
> **In which Bucky finds the perfect pumpkin for this year's jack-o-lantern, but has some competition in the form of a handsome blond man.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy little meet-cute. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

When Bucky _finally_ sees it - the perfect pumpkin for this year’s jack-o-lantern masterpiece - he sighs in relief. He’s been traveling from grocery store to grocery store for three hours now in an effort to find a nicely round pumpkin that’s big enough for _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ scene he’s got in mind.

He supposes this is what he gets for waiting until mid-October.

Bucky’s so focused on this exemplary squash that he doesn’t realize he’s got competition until he’s reaching for it and another pair of hands settles on top of his own.

“Hey,” Bucky looks up at the owner of the offending hands sharply, blinking as he takes in the stacked blond man standing before him. Bucky’s breath honest-to-god catches in his throat as a pair of kind blue eyes look down at him, a small smile turning up the corners of the most perfect mouth Bucky’s ever laid eyes on.

“Sorry, man,” the blond grins, a light blush coloring his high cheekbones. “I didn’t see ya there. I guess I was too focused on getting to this pumpkin. Need it for a jack-o-lantern.”

“And there just aren’t many good ones left,” Bucky chuckles before realizing the stranger’s hands are still there, warm against his. He pulls back gently, and the blond jerks away.

“Shit, sorry again,” the blond laughs, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck and looking shyly at Bucky through long, dark lashes. “So, what do we do?”

“Well, we could duel for it,” Bucky replies, his face expressionless and his voice dry, and those beautiful blue eyes widen so comically that Bucky can’t keep it together for more than a couple of seconds before he’s laughing so hard that tears are rolling down his face. “Oh god, I’m sorry. It was a joke. A fuckin’ awful joke.”

When Bucky looks up, the blond is smiling at him fondly, and Bucky feels his heart begin to beat double-time in his chest.

“I think I oughta get the pumpkin now,” the other man smirks. “Since you were teasin’ me and all.”

“Pfft,” Bucky rolls his eyes, and places his hands on his hips. “If you think that’s gonna work pal, you’ve got another think comin’. I’ve visited seven grocery stores in the last three hours and I’m not givin’ this baby up without a fight.”

“Flip a coin?” the blond suggests pulling a quarter from his pocket. “I’ll even let you call it.”

“How magnanimous,” Bucky drawls, but he can’t keep the grin from his face. “All right, pal. Heads.”

The blond flips the coin into the air, catching it in a smooth, deft motion and slapping it onto the back of his hand.

“Tails,” the other man reports gleefully, a beatific smile lighting up his face. Bucky sighs, shoulders slumping as Steve picks up the pumpkin.

“God damn,” Bucky grumbles. “Guess it’s time to traipse through a pumpkin patch.”

Bucky begins to walk away, but he feels a tentative touch on his shoulder. When he turns, the blond is there, holding the pumpkin against his hip, smiling softly.

“You know,” he says, his hand still on Bucky’s shoulder. “I could, um, use some help with carving. I’m something of a novice. You know, if you’d be interested.”

Bucky snatches the pumpkin out of the man’s hands so quickly that the guy actually stumbles back a step.

“I’m Bucky,” he smiles. “And yes. I’m interested.”

“Steve,” the blond chuckles and falls into step beside Bucky as they head to the registers. “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you remember last year-” Steve smiles as he looks down at Bucky curled up beside him on the couch while they watch _It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ \- “When we both tried to snag that pumpkin and then I got it in the coin toss?”

“Uh, duh,” Bucky grins as he leans up and places a quick kiss on Steve’s lips. “That’s how we met, handsome.”

“Well, I have a confession to make,” Steve replies, smirking. He pulls a coin from his pocket, then places it in Bucky’s hand.

“What?” Bucky asks, turning the coin over in his hand. Steve feels Bucky stiffen beside him and has to choke down a laugh as the brunet crows, “You _fuckin’_ cheat!”

“In my defense-” Steve laughs as Bucky tackles him back onto the couch and begins tickling his sides- “There was no guarantee you wouldn’t call tails. So, it was basically destiny. Fate. Kismet.”

“God damn it, Rogers,” Bucky laughs as he wraps his arms around the blond. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I only used the trick coin because I thought you were cute and I was hoping you’d carve it with me,” Steve smiles. “So that I could get to know you.”

“You coulda just asked,” Bucky giggles, leaning up a bit and kissing Steve soundly.

Steve smiles impishly as he pulls back and cups Bucky’s face in his hands. “Where’s the fun in that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests and prompts for this collection (and in general) are highly encouraged. If you've got an idea, send it via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com), please.


	6. Heat of the Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s used to Bucky’s passing fancies - they’ve known each other over a decade now for god’s sake, so he guess he better be - but this one’s got to be the most ludicrous of them all.
> 
> One, because there’s no such thing as ghosts. And two, because now Bucky wants to leave the comfort of the nice, warm, well-lit apartment and spend a night in an allegedly haunted house on the outskirts of town. 
> 
> **In which Bucky's on a _Ghost Hunters_ kick and Steve reluctantly accompanies him to investigate a haunted house.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an itty bit of spook-factor in this one, but it's mostly fluff. Hope you enjoy it :)

“Steve come on,” Bucky whines, eyes wide and mouth pouting as he gazes up at Steve from his seat on the couch. The brunet’s been bingeing episodes of - of all things - _Ghost Hunters_ and now he’s convinced paranormal investigation is his life’s calling _._ Steve’s used to Bucky’s passing fancies - they’ve known each other over a decade now for god’s sake, so he guess he better be - but this one’s got to be the most ludicrous of them all.

One, because there’s no such thing as ghosts. And two, because now Bucky wants to leave the comfort of  the nice, warm, well-lit apartment and spend a night in an allegedly haunted house on the outskirts of town.

“Bucky, _no,”_ Steve enunciates the word clearly enough, but for some reason he’s just not getting through his best friend’s thick skull.

“Steve, _please,”_ Bucky groans, and _Jesus_ , Steve would really love to hear those words leaving Bucky’s mouth in a different situation. The situation being he and Bucky in a bed together. Or on a couch. Or up against a wall. The brunet needs to cool it, or Steve’s going to be sporting a serious problem.

“Please, it’ll be fun!” Bucky exclaims, pulling Steve from his less-than-appropriate thoughts. “It’ll be like a sleepover or a camp out or somethin’. Like we used to have when we were kids, you know?”

Yeah, Steve’s known Bucky for years, but these feelings, this desire for the other man is relatively new. Maybe it’s Steve finally coming to terms with the fact that he’s interested in men as well as women, of which Bucky has been incredibly supportive, being bisexual himself. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re in each other’s space all the time now that they’re away at college and living together. Whatever the reason, his infatuation with his best friend is starting to become one hell of a distraction.  

“Steve?’ Bucky questions, tilting his head like a confused puppy, and shit, Steve _cannot_ let Bucky suck him into this hare-brained scheme.

“Bucky,” Steve exhales, running a hand through his short blond hair as he joins his best friend on their couch. “There’s no way it’s _safe._ From what I hear, that house has been empty for ages; it should probably be condemned for fuck’s sake. It’s dangerous and we are _not_ going to go into that deathtrap looking for _ghosts._ Besides, we have midterms comin’ up and you wanna just, what?  Squander a night of studyin’?”

Bucky’s shoulders slump, and Steve thinks that maybe he’s won an argument for a change.

“Never pegged you for a chicken, Rogers,” Bucky sighs, pulling a blanket over his legs. “But _fine._ We won’t go.”

Steve should just let it go. He should keep his big, stubborn mouth shut because Bucky’s come around, but instead he lets it run away with him. Just like he _always_ does when Bucky challenges him. Just like the brunet _knows_ he will.

“Who you callin’ chicken, jerk?” Steve fumes, arms across his chest. “I’m not afraid, I just think it’s a dumb idea.”

“Oh, sure,” Bucky’s voice is light and nonchalant, but his eyes are sparkling with mischief. “Of course, just a dumb idea. You’re not afraid at all.”

“God damn it,”  Steve sighs. “ _Fine_. We’ll go to the house. But I’m not sleepin’ there.”

“Yes!” Bucky cries, his voice triumphant as he throws his arms around Steve, and the big blond reflexively moves to envelop his lean friend, even if he’d kind of like to strangle him at the moment. “Steve, you’re the best friend a guy could ask for, you know that?”

“Shut up and watch your stupid show,” Steve grumbles, but he can’t keep a frown on his face when Bucky’s looking up at him like he hung the fuckin’ moon.

 

* * *

 

“Where the fuck did you get all this junk?” Steve asks, voice incredulous as Bucky begins pulling all kinds of gadgets out of his backpack.

“One of the managers at the restaurant does this as like a hobby or whatever,” Bucky explains, smiling at the thought of portly Gerald hunting for ghosts. “He’d’ve come, but he had a date, I think.”

“You sound disappointed,” Steve grins picking up a pair of nightvision goggles and inspecting them in the dim light. Bucky’d insisted on bringing a battery-powered lantern with them and it had turned out to be a smart move. “You into him?”

“Oh, no,” Bucky replies, shifting uncomfortably under his friend’s gaze. Steve’s known Bucky forever, knows Bucky’ll date anybody he finds pretty and interesting, but somehow still hasn’t figured out that _he’s_ the one person in the world Bucky wants more than anything. “No, it just woulda been nice to have somebody who’s done this whole paranormal investigation thing before.”

“Right,” Steve chuckles, setting the goggles down. “So, how do we proceed here?”

“Well, I figured we could set up some cameras and EVP recorders. We’ll keep a couple with us. And then we’ll split up and start trying to communicate with the spirit that’s supposed to haunt this place.”

The way Steve’s big blue eyes widen in his face is so comical Bucky can’t help but snicker. The blond glares at him.

“If you think for one second-” Steve deadpans. “That I am letting your catastrophe-prone ass wander this deathtrap alone, I got news for ya, pal.”

“ _Fine,”_ Bucky throws his hands up in mock-exasperation, sighing dramatically. “I wanted to cover more ground, but fine. We stick together.”

“Damn right we do,” Steve grumbles, a small smile on his handsome face, and Bucky nearly swoons at that.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s going to murder Bucky, he really is. Maybe then this stupid, run-down house really will be haunted - by his best friend’s asinine spirit.

In the time they’ve been wandering the halls of the decrepit old farmhouse, Bucky has managed to hit Steve in the face with one of the doors, knock down a shelf - spraying dust and debris all over Steve- and damn near fell through a section of rotting flooring up on the second floor.

“Bucky,” Steve sighs as the brunet calls out softly, listening between pauses for any strange noises. “I’m tired. I can’t stop sneezin’ because of all this dust. Which really hurts because you clocked me right in the fuckin’ nose with that door. Can we please, _please_ , go home?”

There’s a long, low creak in the hallway just as Steve finishes his sentence, and they both jump at the sound, whirling to face the door.

“Come on,” Bucky whispers, motioning for Steve to follow him. The blond sighs, tiptoeing behind Bucky out into the hall.

“It’s a mouse,” Steve groans, watching the tiny creature dart away from them. “God damn it, come on. I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, all right,” Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Stevie, guess this wasn’t one of my better-”

A blood-curdling shriek interrupts Bucky, and the brunet visibly pales, gray eyes wide as they snap to meet Steve’s.

“I swear to god,” Steve whispers fiercely, his hand tightening its grip around Bucky’s wrist - when had he reached out for the other man? - “If this is some kinda fuckin’ prank because it’s close to Halloween, I am going to kill you, Barnes.”

“It’s not me,” Bucky whispers, and Steve can feel him trembling. “Steve, you know I wouldn’t do somethin’ like _that_. Christ, _listen.”_

The door at the end of the hallway is closed - they hadn’t been able to pry it open - but there’s a _scrtich scritch scritch_ coming from that direction. Almost like someone’s-

“Scratchin’ at the door,” Steve rasps, his throat dry and his voice harsh. “Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, somethin’s scratchin’ at the door.”

And then the doors in the hallway begin to slam shut, one by one.

“We need to leave,” Bucky gasps, tugging Steve in the direction of the stairs.

“What about the equipment?” Steve winces as a door slams shut to his right, hard enough to rattle the frame. “We gotta-”

“Grab what you can, but don’t stress,” Bucky replies, dragging Steve down the stairs behind him as another screech rises up from the door at the end of the hallway. The two of them scoop up the recording devices as the run, missing only one EVP recorder, and then sprint for the front door, flinging themselves outside before it slams shut behind them.

 

* * *

 

“Jesus,” Steve’s breathing harshly as he crawls to Bucky, taking the brunet’s face in his hands. Bucky’d probably be enjoying it more if he didn’t feel like he was about to faint. “Jesus Christ, that was- Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”

“No,” Bucky gasps out. “No, I’m all right.”

“Thank god,” Steve pulls Bucky close, hugging him to his massive chest. Bucky wraps his arms around the other man, and then all of a sudden Steve’s pulling back from the embrace and surging forward to claim Bucky’s lips. It’s desperate and urgent, as though Steve’s seeking reassurance that Bucky really is here, really is all right. And just as quickly as the kiss began - before Bucky has any time to enjoy it or to kiss Steve back - it’s over.

“Um,” Steve begins, face tinged a lovely pink as he gazes at Bucky through his too-long lashes. “Sorry. Just - heat of the moment, I guess?”

“Right,” Bucky exhales, smiling. “Heat of the moment. Let’s get the fuck outta here, Rogers.”

 

* * *

 

“I would just like to apologize again-” Bucky grins as he hands Steve a mug of hot chocolate and then curls up beside him on the couch. “For that absolutely terrible idea. From now on, we leave the other side to the professionals.”

Steve chuckles, sipping his cocoa and nodding. “Look, how were you supposed to know _that_ would happen?”

“Well, I mean,” Bucky grimaces, running a hand across the back of his neck. “I did my research. There was a girl that ‘went crazy’ there. Probably just didn’t know how to treat whatever mental illness she had, so they locked her up and she died there. There’s stories about slammin’ doors and screamin’, but I didn’t think it’d actually happen, not like that-”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupts him with a smile. “As long as you never make me investigate a haunted house again, I’m willing to let this one slide, all right?”

“All right,” Bucky replies, sagging back against the couch. There’s a moment of comfortable silence between them before Bucky speaks again, stunning Steve completely.

“You know,” he says, voice soft and a little bashful. “If, uh, what happened back there wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing, I’d be all right with that.”

“You’d-” Steve’s having some trouble getting oxygen to his lungs as he stares at the brunet. “You’d what?”

“I’d be all right with it,” Bucky’s smiling now, and god, he’s the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen. “If you wanted to kiss me for real. And not just because you were afraid and pumped full of adrenaline.”

“What if I’m afraid right now?” Steve whispers as Bucky leans toward him, lips edging ever closer. “Of screwing this up? What if I’m terrified, Buck?”

“You don’t have to be,” Bucky breathes, and then the brunet’s kissing him.

Bucky’s mouth is soft, pliant, and Steve groans against the other man’s lips as he wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist, pulling him close. Bucky’s tongue invades his mouth, and Steve sucks on it, shivering at the broken moan that leaves his friend’s lips.

“How long?” Steve rasps out as he pulls back, gazing into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky laughs.

“Always, I think,” Bucky grins. “But I didn’t think I had a chance. And then you were tellin’ me you were into guys too, and I didn’t wanna take advantage, you know? Not if you didn’t want me. Thought you’d feel like you had to humor me if I came onto you.”

“Bucky,” Steve laughs, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Bucky’s. “God, you shoulda _told me_. How could I not want you? You’re my best friend. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“Right back atcha, pal,” Bucky giggles, snuggling closer and planting a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Now, what do you say we put on a movie we’ve already seen twenty times and make out through most of it?”

Steve smiles down at Bucky, tightening his grip and nodding. “I think I can get on board with that plan, yeah.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any October/autumnal/Halloween suggestions for this collection, please contact me on [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com)! Of course, all requests are welcome :)


	7. The Night Is Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s a surly brunet dressed as Princess Leia, Steve,” Sam smirks as they watch the guy stalk off to the kitchen. “You gotta go after him.”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Bucky's having a decidedly shitty night, but a blond Han Solo makes it a little bit better.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching Return of the Jedi the other night, so this lil fic happened. Hope you guys like it :)

“Did you lose a bet, man?”

Bucky turns to the laughing voice on his left, steely glare already in place. “No, asshole. My dick of a boyfriend dumped me with a text about five minutes after I got here. After he campaigned tirelessly for months for a couples costume.”

The dark-skinned man’s eyes widen and he takes a step or two back. “Shit, I’m sorry. Really, that sucks. But, uh, really nice costume.”

“Thanks,” Bucky bites out, folding his arms across his chest.

 _Of fucking course_ , Brock had wanted to go to this fucking Halloween party as Han Solo and Princess Leia. And naturally, there was no way _Brock_ was going to be dressing up as a woman. Not that Bucky gave a shit; Princess Leia was the baddest bitch in the galaxy as far as he was concerned. He just wished he’d ignored Brock’s wishes that he go with Leia in her slave-to-Jabba getup.

Bucky wants nothing more than to go home and take off his costume and curl up with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. He aches to wallow in rom-coms and sweatpants. Instead, he’s going to grit his teeth and stay at this party for at least an hour, dealing with remarks like this the whole fuckin’ time because he is not going to let Brock win this one.

“Hey, Sam, got ya a beer, hope that’s-” a blond man who is possibly the single most attractive human being Bucky has ever seen in his life -  _dressed as Han Solo -_  walks up and hands the other guy a drink. His eyes widen as he takes in Bucky’s appearance, jaw dropping, and the brunet can feel his blood start to boil.

“Why don’t you take a picture, asshole, it’ll last longer,” Bucky growls, then storms off to get himself something stronger than the light beer he’s drinking.

Clearly, he’s going to need it tonight.

 

* * *

 

“He’s a surly brunet dressed as Princess Leia, Steve,” Sam smirks as they watch the guy stalk off to the kitchen. “You gotta go after him.”

“I think he might eat me alive,” Steve breathes, staring after the man’s retreating form, and Sam laughs.

“Right, like you’d have a problem with that.”

“Fuck off, Wilson,” Steve chuckles, then weaves his way through the crowd, making his way to the kitchen as quickly as he can.

“Uh, hey,” Steve taps the brunet on the shoulder once he reaches him. The man whirls around, eyes narrowing as he registers Steve’s presence. “Before you yell at me, I just wanted to apologize. Your costume just surprised me and, um-”

“Um, _what?”_ the brunet snaps, but there’s amusement dancing in his gray-blue eyes.

“You, um, look really good,” Steve can feel his face heating up, and he curses his fair skin for coloring so easily. He takes a deep breath and continues despite his embarrassment. “Like, obscenely good.”

“Is that right?” the brunet purrs, crowding Steve up against one of the kitchen counters, lips a hair’s breadth from Steve’s own. “Well, you don’t look half bad yourself, Han.”

Steve gulps as he feels long fingers run up his thighs and settle on his hips, arousal stirring low in his belly at the look in the other man’s big gray-blue eyes. _Beautiful_ , Steve thinks.

“What’s your name?” Steve manages to rasp.

“How about-” the brunet whispers as he leans in, his mouth brushing against Steve’s in a way that sets every nerve in his body on fire- “I call you Han. And you call me Leia. And maybe if I’m impressed by the end of the night, I’ll give you my number.”

Steve’s inhale is shaky as he nods. The other man backs away, a coy smile turning up the corners of his plush lips. “Come on, then, Han. The night is young.”

Steve watches the tempting sway of the other man’s hips for a moment before shaking his head and following him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests for this collection (and in general) can be sent to me via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com). Remember, the goal's one a day for 31 days, so any and all ideas are appreciated :)


	8. Where's Your Human?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, shit,” Bucky chuckles as the canine leaps into the air, wide eyes focused on the frisbee in his hands and Bucky goes down with the dog into a pile of leaves just off the walkway with a soft, “Oof.” The dog’s tail is wagging a mile a minute as it sniffs Bucky, licking his face enthusiastically. 
> 
> **In which Steve misplaces his dog and finds Bucky.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, obviously a dog had to show up at some point, right? Just a fluffy lil meet-cute :) Hope you like!

Bucky’s taking a leisurely stroll through Central Park one morning in early October, soaking in the mellow afternoon sunlight and enjoying the soft, cool wind whispering through the trees. The leaves are just beginning to change, shades of red and orange and yellow eclipsing the green foliage like a slow-burning fire.

And as he’s admiring all of this, taking in a deep breath of fresh, fall air, a frisbee clocks him square on the side of the head, bouncing from his skull and landing on the pavement at his feet. Bucky squats to pick up the bright blue disc, eyes narrowing as he scans the area for the person who tossed it.

“Where’d you come from?” Bucky mutters, noticing far too late that there’s an enormous dog bounding toward him.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky chuckles as the canine leaps into the air, wide eyes focused on the frisbee in his hands and Bucky goes down with the dog into a pile of leaves just off the walkway with a soft, “Oof.” The dog’s tail is wagging a mile a minute as it sniffs Bucky, licking his face enthusiastically.

“Easy there, mutt,” Bucky laughs, holding out a hand, palm up, for the dog to smell before scratching behind its ears. Bucky’s pretty sure it’s a mutt, but based on its coloring and its thick coat, the dog’s gotta be at least half Saint Bernard.

“Where’s your human, pal?” Bucky asks as he pushes himself up out of the leaves, looking down at the dog. Its tail continues to wag as it lets out a low “Boof,” big eyes shining as it watches the frisbee Bucky’s passing from hand to hand. “C’mon, we better find’m.”

“Nana!” Bucky hears a near-frantic male voice call a moment later, and looks down to see the dog’s ears perk up. Her tail begins to wag when she hears her name a second time. At least, Bucky guesses that Nana’s a she.

“Hey,” Bucky calls out. “If Nana’s a dog, I found her. We’re over here.” He can’t help but smile at the fact that this guy named his furry friend after the Saint Bernard in _Peter Pan_.

Bucky’s jaw nearly hits the ground as an Adonis of a man rounds the corner, then sprints when he sees the dog at Bucky’s side. Nana lopes up the pathway to meet him, and Bucky follows, snickering as Nana leaps onto her owner.

“Scared the hell outta me, baby girl,” the 6’2” blond is cooing as he pets the dog. Bucky’s struck by eyes like sapphires when the guy looks up at him, his knees going a little week in the onslaught of so much blue. “Man, _thank you_. Wind took the frisbee way further than I expected. Thought I lost this behemoth.”

“Not a problem,” Bucky grins. “Although, she’s kind of hard to miss. Especially when she tackles you like that.”

“She didn’t,” the blond gasps, looking down at the dog, his features stern. Nana gazes up at Steve with a forlorn expression that sort of melts Bucky’s heart.

“Oh, she did,” Bucky laughs. “But in her defense, I was holding her frisbee.”

“I see,” the man smiles, extending his hand. “I’m Steve by the way. Steve Rogers. You’ve met Nana.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, shaking Steve’s hand. “Nice to meet you both. James Barnes, but everybody calls me Bucky. Middle name’s Buchanan and the nickname just sorta stuck.”

“It suits you,” Steve grins, releasing Bucky’s hand and running a hand through his short blond hair. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’d let me buy you a cup of coffee? To make up for Nana’s abominable manners and all.”

“I think I could be persuaded,” Bucky winks, smirking as Steve begins to blush. “There’s a great little kiosk not too far from here.”

 

* * *

 

Nana’s a friendly dog, but Steve’s never seen her take to somebody quite like she takes to Bucky.

Of course, that could be because the brunet is feeding her pieces of a croissant as he and Steve enjoy their coffees on a park bench.

“I thought you bought that pastry for you,” Steve chuckles as Bucky looks up from the dog with a sheepish smile. “Besides, you’re not supposed to give dogs people food.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky grins as he scratches behind Nana’s ears, laughing as she rolls to show him her belly. “Like anybody could resist this mug. God, she’s a pretty dog.”

“Very pretty,” Steve murmurs, eyes lingering on Bucky’s broad shoulders, the slope of his sharp cheekbones, and the elegant curve of his neck.

In the half hour that they’re together, Steve learns that Bucky’s a veteran working at a counseling center in Midtown, that this is his fourth cup of coffee today (it’s not even noon) and that he can’t get a dog of his own because he lives in a building where pets aren’t allowed.

“Well, I’d be happy to share Nana for the time being,” Steve blurts, blushing when he realizes how presumptuous that sounds. “I mean, you can hang out. With us. You know, if you want to.”

“I’d be happy to hang out with you and Nana any time, Steve,” Bucky smiles, reaching out and grasping Steve’s shoulder. “Hell, we can even hang out without Nana from time to time if you want.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiles, looking up at Bucky shyly. The brunet laughs, his head thrown back, his adorable nose all scrunched up like Steve’s the funniest guy he’s ever met.

“Yeah,” Bucky teases. “But not too often. Really, I’m in this for Nana. Don’t want you to be gettin’ any ideas.”

The way Bucky smirks as he runs his fingers down Steve’s arm gives the blond goosebumps, and he’s fumbling to pull his cell out of his pocket so that he can get this gorgeous man’s number.

“You-” Steve smiles down at Nana as Bucky walks off about fifteen minutes later, waving and grinning- “Are the best dog in the entire world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Suggestions for further fics can be submittied via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com), or you can just leave one in the comments if that's easier.


	9. It Needs Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit,” Bucky curses softly, backing away from the pot. “Christ almighty, Rogers, you gotta get out here. You’re breakin’ my concentration.”
> 
> “Is that so?” Steve grins, leaning against the counter, his eyes sparkling. “Oughta let me try that soup, Barnes. Mighta ruined it already if you’re so easily distracted.” 
> 
>   **In which Bucky is a grumpy chef who just wants to make soup and Steve is a monumental distraction.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "making soup." Thank you to msMynx for the wonderful suggestion! Hope you all like it :)
> 
> Also, I am hoping to update a couple of WIPs today, but we'll see. Sunday's usually my big writing day, but due to a last minute change in plans involving where my grandmother is staying for a doctor's appointment, I kind of have to clean the house. Like the whole thing. By myself. So, we'll see what I can accomplish.

October is Bucky’s favorite time of year because it’s when Steve finally, finally, _finally_ lets him put soup back on the menu in abundance.

Bucky’s been working as the executive chef at Silversmith Arms for nearly five years, and every time the weather warms up he and the inn manager, Steve Rogers, get into a knock-down drag out about soup. Steve insists that no one will order anything but She-Crab soup and New England Clam Chowder, and most people will stick with salad for a starter anyway in the hot summer months.

“No one wants soup on a July afternoon in Maine,” Steve tells him every year, and Bucky always seethes that they’ll never know that _for sure_ unless Steve lets him _make soups_. And every year, Steve puts his foot down because it’d be a waste. Bucky grumbles about it for a few days, and then resigns himself to the coming autumn when he can finally begin working on making the best soups the fall tourists have ever slurped down.

There’s something about making soup, chili or stew that just sets Bucky at ease. The methodical rhythm of chopping meats and vegetables. The low simmering of the ingredients. The blending of all those delicious smells released gradually into the air over time. The warmth and comfort it provides. Bucky knows his passion for soups makes him look like a dork, but frankly, he couldn’t give a shit.

Bucky’s working on a couple of soups for their lunch shift - a rich butternut squash, a creamy chicken tortilla and a thick turkey chili - when Steve breezes into the kitchen, looking like he just stepped out of a god damn Ralph Lauren catalogue. His thick blond hair is parted to the side, combed back like he’s starring in an old movie musical, and Bucky is _not_ swooning over the way his blue cashmere sweater stretches across his broad chest and brings out those eyes that look like a fucking ocean in the tropics.

“Mornin’, Buck,” Steve smiles, and fuck, does the guy need to be a ray of sunshine? “Whatcha got goin’ there.”

“Nothin’ you’d be interested in, Soup Nazi,” Bucky smirks, giving the pot of butternut squash a stir.

Steve laughs at the stupid _Seinfeld_ reference just like he does every October, and the way his eyes crinkle up at the corners is so distracting that Bucky nearly puts sugar into the soup instead of salt.

“Shit,” Bucky curses softly, backing away from the pot. “Christ almighty, Rogers, you gotta get out here. You’re breakin’ my concentration.”

“Is that so?” Steve grins, leaning against the counter, his eyes sparkling. “Oughta let me try that soup, Barnes. Mighta ruined it already if you’re so easily distracted.”

“If I let you test the soup will you get the fuck outta my kitchen, you blond behemoth?” Bucky chuckles, grabbing a tasting spoon and handing it to Steve as he nods. “And I’m only doin’ this to get you off my back because I know for a fact that this soup is perfect.”

“We’ll see,” Steve teases, dipping his spoon into the thick orange liquid. Steve slurps it up, loudly, and Bucky can feel his shoulders tense and his eyes narrow. He’s annoyed that Steve’s purposely trying to bait him when he’s in a good mood, but more than that he’s annoyed at himself for falling for it.

Steve nods, smiling. “It’s delicious, Buck. Really, it’s perfect. Only-”

“Only what?” Bucky snaps, hands on his hips as Steve lets his voice trail off. The smirk on the blond’s face is wicked, and Bucky’s never been more tempted to slam him back against something solid and kiss the daylights out of him.

“Only, it needs salt,” Steve quips setting the spoon down and then whirling on his heel and striding out of the kitchen, laughing as Bucky releases an exasperated shout that has every sous chef in the place jumping.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bucky huffs, smiling as he begins adding the salt to his soup pinch by pinch, wondering if maybe he should just cave and ask the blond out on a date instead of flirt-fighting with him in front of all the other employees.

 

* * *

 

October is Steve’s favorite time of year because Bucky’s back to making soups, which for some reason makes the surly brunet happy beyond compare. And Steve _really_ likes it when Bucky’s happy.

Steve’s had a crush on Bucky since the guy started, and their working relationship has always had something of an edge. His concierge, Natasha, is forever telling Steve that it’s all that unresolved sexual tension, and he’s starting to think that maybe she’s got a point.

Bucky’s practically bouncing as he hovers over a couple of pots on the stove, sprinkling in various ingredients, and Steve inhales deeply as he walks over, smiling. Of course, Bucky immediately sasses him, and _God,_ Steve doesn’t think he’s ever wanted somebody so bad. He needs Bucky, needs that smart mouth moving against his own, needs to replace all those snarky comments with moans and whimpers.

Steve ends up hanging around the inn for most of the day since they've got a wedding happening. By the time everything’s cleaned up and the place has settled down, it’s nearly midnight. Steve wanders into the kitchen, hoping like hell for a snack because he’s starving.

Bucky’s sitting at the table where he and the other kitchen employees take their breaks and lunches. His thick, dark hair is still pulled back, but the bright red bandana he wears to keep it in place throughout the day is gone, and a few loose strands are framing his handsome face. His arms, which are usually hidden by his white uniform jacket, are exposed, and Steve takes a moment to admire the tattoos that cover every inch of skin.

Bucky sighs contentedly as he picks up a spoon, about to tuck into a bowl of soup.

“Hey,” Steve calls from the doorway, grinning as the brunet starts and turns in his seat. “Got any soup to spare for a hungry inn manager?”

Bucky smirks. “I dunno, man. The soup’s really only here for people who appreciate it.”

“I _do_ appreciate it,” Steve chuckles. “I just appreciate it when the weather cools down. You know, like a normal person does.”

“Philistine,” Bucky grumbles, rising from his chair, and Steve notes the flex of the muscles in the man’s forearms as he pushes himself up. “But fine. I’ll getcha a bowl.”

 

* * *

 

“You know, this doesn’t count as a date,” Steve says in a nonchalant voice that’s got Bucky choking on his soup.

“I’m sorry, what?” he manages to rasp out, coughing as he attempts to catch his breath.

“You and me, sitting here,” Steve replies. “Eating soup together. Doesn’t count as a date.”

Bucky shakes his head, an incredulous smile spreading across his features. “Of course it doesn’t. Where the hell did that come from?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Steve grins, running a hand through his blond hair as he flushes a lovely shade of pink. “You want a date, you gotta ask me.”

“And who said I wanted a date with you?” Bucky laughs, pushing back from the table and grabbing his empty bowl.

Steve’s smile falters, and Bucky’s almost sorry he’s teasing him, but really, how could he pass up the opportunity? Bucky walks over to the sink, turns on the faucet and begins washing out his bowl. He doesn’t hear Steve walk over, but he can feel the blond just behind him and to his left.

“Buck, I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly. “If I made it weird. I just thought-”

“That I wanted to date you,” Bucky replies, mentally kicking himself because now he’s got Steve all solemn and regretful when he’d just been hoping for more of the blond’s usual banter. “I got that, yeah.”

“So, I’ll just go then,” Steve murmurs, placing his bowl on the counter and walking away. Bucky just shakes his head and smiles.

“Rogers,” he calls out, laughing at Steve’s furrowed brow when the blond turns to face him. “You want me to ask you out, you better not just leave that dirty bowl on my counter. I don’t date slobs, ya know.”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he’s striding toward Bucky with a determined look on his face that has Bucky’s toes curling in his boots. And when Steve reaches him, Bucky lets the blond wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close.

“Much as I like this,” Bucky quips, quirking a brow. “This is _not_ washing up your bowl.”

“Would you shut your fuckin’ mouth for once, Barnes?” Steve grins, looming ever closer, cupping his face, and _God_ , Bucky’s going to die if Steve doesn’t kiss him.

“Why don’t you make me?”

And then Steve’s lips are on his, slower and gentler than Bucky expected them to be and he melts. The things Steve’s doing with his tongue have his knees giving out, and he has to grasp Steve’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

When Steve pulls away, his eyes are bright and dazed, and there’s a wide smile stretching across his handsome features. He steps back, then moves to the sink, turning the faucet back on and grabbing his bowl.

“What are you doing?” Bucky chuckles, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing his neck.

“Washin’ up,” Steve smirks. “So that you can ask me out.”

“So presumptuous,” Bucky grins, capturing Steve’s lips in a quick kiss as the blond turns to him with an indignant squeak. “Jokin’, punk. Finish up and then let’s you and me get outta here.”

Steve smiles and nods, and Bucky chuckles as he wonders exactly how much teasing the two of them will have to endure from the rest of the staff.

He figures it’ll be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests for this collection (an in general) can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emhpasisonem.tumblr.com) or you can leave them in the comments.


	10. Take My Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky grins, moving closer. “So, you enjoying the bonfire?”
> 
> Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I get a real thrill outta hangin’ around the type of guys who usually mess with me for fun while inhaling smoke that could cause an asthma attack.”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve really didn't want to go to this bonfire, but there's a cute football player who wants to talk to him for some reason, so it's all right.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy meet-cute inspired by a prompt from msMynx who has been hella inspiring so far. Hope you guys enjoy it!

“I’m not going,” Steve pouts, glaring sullenly up at the redhead standing in front of him. Natasha’s eyes are narrowed, her hands are on her hips and her lips are a thin, hard line.

“I’m not,” Steve says again, weaker this time as Natasha’s glare intensifies.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Natasha grits out. “Sam is one of your best friends. Clint is my boyfriend. We are going to this stupid bonfire and that’s the last I want to hear about it.”

“Nat, come on,” Steve whines, sprawling out on the couch in their off-campus apartment. “Neither of us is into this school spirit stuff. Why do we have to pretend to be? Sam and Clint will understand if we meet up with them later.”

“Steve,” Natasha sighs as she pushes the blond’s legs off the couch and sits beside him. “I know it sounds stupid. Believe me, a pep rally bonfire the night before the game against our big rivals sounds beyond cheesy to me too. But they’re out friends, and I know it’ll mean a lot to them if we just put on our game faces and go.”

Sam and Clint had both managed to make the university’s football team as walk-ons this year - Sam as a running back and Clint as a place kicker. Steve’s happy for both of them, he really is, but the idea of standing around outside on a cold October night with a bunch of drunk jocks isn’t exactly appealing to the slight blond. But of course, Natasha has a point.

Steve exhales through his nose and sits up straighter. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha smirks, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Besides, I know you’d never make me go to this thing alone.”

Steve laughs, nudging the redhead with his shoulder. “That would be awfully cruel, wouldn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

“Who’s the blond with your girlfriend?” Bucky asks Clint as his gray-blue eyes trail the redhead and the short, slender man by her side. Clint glances over at Sam with a smirk and a look that screams _told you so_ , and Sam can’t help but laugh. Everybody on the team knows that their best Safety has a penchant for pretty blonds, and Clint had bet Sam five bucks that the lean brunet would zero in on Steve the second he showed up.

“That’s my friend Steve,” Sam answers Bucky with a smile. “The art major that Nat and I live with; I told you about him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, eyes never leaving the short blond. “Yeah, you did. Just never told me how cute he is. He date guys?”

“On occasion,” Clint chuckles as he picks up a load of wood and dumps it onto the pile for the bonfire. “And in fact, I don’t think he’s seeing anybody right now. Isn’t that so, Sam?”

“I believe it is so, Clint,” Sam grins, laughing at the way Bucky’s eyes light up when he looks over at the two of them.

“Well, then” Bucky grins. “Guess I know how I’m spending my evening.”

“Word to the wise, Barnes,” Sam smirks, narrowing his eyes. “He’s shy and he can be a little prickly, especially around bigger dudes like you. Plus, he’s a good  friend of mine, so-”

“So, I’ll be extra nice to him, Wilson, I swear,” Bucky laughs, clapping his teammate on the shoulder. “Besides, I like the sassy ones. Now, if you two could just help me out, maybe conveniently disappear so I can swoop in and get to know him?”

Clint smirks at Sam, waiting for his friend to nod. “Yeah, I think we can manage that.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky hangs back until Nat and Clint have wandered off and Sam has occupied himself flirting with a pretty, dark-haired cheerleader before approaching Steve. The blond looks more than a little lost, staring resolutely at the styrofoam cup in his hands.

“Hey,” Bucky smiles as he sidles up beside Steve. “You’re Sam and Clint’s friend, right? Steve?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies, blinking up at Bucky, and _Jesus_ , this guy’s eyes are so fucking blue Bucky thinks he could drown in them. “Steve Rogers. You must be one of their teammates?”

“James Barnes,” Bucky grins, extending his hand. Steve takes it tentatively, his eyes wary despite the small smile on his face. “Bucky to my friends. And any friend of theirs is a friend of mine, so please call me Bucky.”

“All right, Bucky,” Steve laughs, pulling his hand back and running it through his blond hair. Bucky’s itching to find out if it’s as soft as it looks. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Bucky grins, moving closer. “So, you enjoying the bonfire?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I get a real thrill outta hangin’ around the type of guys who usually mess with me for fun while inhaling smoke that could cause an asthma attack.”

Bucky laughs as Steve’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, man. This is like a thing for you, and I’m being an ass-”

“No,” Bucky chuckles. “No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate the honesty. I, uh, have to hang around for the fight song, but it shouldn’t be too much longer. After that, you wanna maybe hit the diner? Take a break from inhaling smoke?”

“Oh,” Steve’s blinking up at him, clearly surprised, and Bucky thinks it’s maybe the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Um, yeah, all right. That sounds nice.”

“Don’t go anywhere, ok?” Bucky winks, liking the pink flush that stains the blond’s sharp cheekbones. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles shyly, looking up at Bucky through long, dark lashes. “I’ll be right here.”

 

* * *

 

“You look cold,” Bucky says as the two of them trek across campus to the diner, Steve shivering despite the thermal and the heavy cardigan he’s wearing. “Here, take my jacket.”

“Oh, no, I-” Steve begins, pausing as Bucky drapes it over his shoulders. “Buck, I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not some cheerleader you’re trying to impress so she’ll go to the sock hop with ya.” Still, Steve would be lying if he said he doesn’t like the idea of wearing Bucky’s team jacket, the brunet’s last name stitched over Steve’s heart giving him a little thrill.

“Just because you’re not a cheerleader doesn’t mean I don’t want to impress you, Steve.” Bucky grins down at him. “And, what, you wouldn’t consider goin’ to a sock hop with me? I’m hurt, honestly. I know how to Lindy Hop and everything.”

“You’re kidding,” Steve giggles, slipping his arms into the too-long sleeves and wrapping the jacket around him tightly, inhaling Bucky’s scent. It’s earthy and intoxicating and Steve should probably chill out before he scares Bucky off. “There’s no way you know the Lindy Hop.”

“There’s a jukebox at this diner, Rogers,” Bucky waggles his eyebrows as a wide smile breaks across his handsome face, and Steve feels like the biggest fucking cliche on the planet as he tries not to swoon over the handsome football player. “Don’t tempt me.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s more than a little nervous as he walks Steve back to his apartment. The two of them had had a blast at the diner, talking about their classes and laughing about their friends. Steve’s got a near-encyclopedic memory when it comes to movies, and it was funny to watch how incensed the blond got when Bucky admitted he’d never seen _Casablanca_ or _The Philadelphia Story._

“They’re _classics_ ,” Steve had sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, as Bucky chuckled. “God, how have you made it 20 years without seeing those movies? We’ll have to instate a movie night or somethin’.”

Bucky had just smiled and nodded, beyond thrilled at the idea of curling up and watching old movies with the beautiful young man sitting across from him.

The conversation continued to flow for hours and Bucky can’t remember the last time he’d had such an instant, easy connection to another person. He thinks that Steve might actually say yes if he asks him out on a real date.

Still, there’s a swarm of butterflies swirling in his stomach when they reach Steve’s door.

“Well, thank you, Bucky,” Steve smiles up at him. “That was a lot of fun. We should hang out more often. If, uh, if you want to.”

“I do,” Bucky answers, maybe a little too quickly. “I, uh, I was actually wondering if you might wanna go out with me next Saturday night?  Catch a movie, grab dinner? Or we could do somethin’ else, I’m not picky.”

“Buck,” Steve’s voice is soft, but his smile is so wide it looks like his face might split. “Are you askin’ me out on a date?”

“I guess I am,” Bucky chuckles, inhaling sharply as Steve reaches up and pulls him down into a kiss. Bucky makes a soft sound of surprise as he cups Steve’s face in his hands. The blond’s lips are soft and smooth, moving gently against his own. The kiss is over almost as soon as it begins, and it takes every ounce of Bucky’s restraint not to chase Steve’s lips as the blond pulls away.

“Pick me up at 7:30?” Steve grins, biting his lip in a way that has heat pooling low in Bucky’s gut.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, grinning as he runs a hand across his lips before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Yeah, 7:30’s perfect. Just, uh, pop your number in there and I’ll call you, ok?”

Steve nods, typing in the number and handing the phone back to Bucky. The brunet seizes the opportunity to pull Steve close and kiss him again, slow and deep. He’s gratified when Steve pulls away breathing heavily, his blue eyes glassy with desire.

“Night, Bucky,” Steve breathes, quickly pecking Bucky on the lips before turning to key into his building.

“Night, Steve,” Bucky smiles, heading down the porch stairs once Steve’s inside.

“Bucky!” The brunet turns with a smile to see Steve hanging out his second floor window a few moments later. “I forgot to give you your jacket back!”

“Hang on to it for me,” Bucky shouts back, laughing. “And wear it on Saturday. Don’t want you catchin’ a cold, and it looks good on you.”

“You football players,” Steve calls back, and Bucky can hear the smile in the blond’s voice. “Always so damn possessive.”

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky laughs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and heading back to his own place, wondering if he’ll ever be able to stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests are more than welcome - you can send them via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or leave them in the comments :)


	11. We Could Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s probably the most miserable day they’ve had all October; the rain is heavy and the wind is fierce enough to rattle the windows of the bus the blond rides to work. Steve had been running late that morning so he’d left the house without grabbing his rain jacket, confident that his umbrella would be in it’s usual place - the bottom of his backpack.
> 
> Except it’s _not fucking there._
> 
> **In which a handsome stranger offers to share his umbrella with Steve Rogers.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy meet-cutes are apparently like kryptonite for me. I can't help myself, friends. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

“Shit,” Steve curses as he digs through his backpack. “Shit, shit, shit.”

It’s probably the most miserable day they’ve had all October; the rain is heavy and the wind is fierce enough to rattle the windows of the bus the blond rides to work. Steve had been running late that morning so he’d left the house without grabbing his rain jacket, confident that his umbrella would be in it’s usual place -  the bottom of his backpack.

Except it’s _not fucking there._

“Fuck me,” Steve exhales, running a hand through his messy blond hair. It’s apparently going to be _that_ kind of Tuesday. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t catch pneumonia once he’s soaked to the skin.

“Hey, pal, you all right?” A deep, pleasant voice inquires from behind Steve. The blond turns to respond that yeah, he’s all right, he’s just a fucking mess is all. The words die in his throat when he’s faced with a handsome brunet who’s got a kind smile and sparkling eyes that are the color of a stormcloud. His long brown hair is pulled back in a messy bun and stubble peppers his strong jawline.

“Pal?” the brunet asks, brow furrowing as he waits for Steve to respond. Steve shakes his head, plastering a smile on his face as he nods and hoping it wasn’t painfully obvious that he was checking the guy out.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Steve replies. “Just tired, I guess. And I, uh, appear to have misplaced my umbrella.”

“Ah, geez, that’s the worst,” the brunet offers him a sympathetic smile, and then his eyes are lighting up like he’s got the world’s best idea. “You wouldn’t be gettin’ off at the next stop, would ya? That’s my stop, and I have a pretty big umbrella. We could share it if you’re at one of the shops down Washington Avenue.”

“Oh-” Steve replies, eyes widening in surprise. “Uh, yeah, I actually work at the bakery on Washington. If it’s on your way-”

“It is,” the stranger grins, standing up and depositing himself in the empty seat beside Steve where the blond guess he intends to sit for the duration of their commute. “James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

“Steve,” Steve smiles, reaching out to shake Bucky’s hand. “Steve Rogers.”

 

* * *

 

“So, Steve,” Bucky finds himself shouting over the wind as the small blond huddles against him. The umbrella’s not doing them as much good as Bucky would have hoped, but it’s better than nothing. And he sure as hell doesn’t mind the feel of Steve’s body against his own, considering how absolutely gorgeous the guy is. Sure, he's on the small side, but he's got sharp, finely-drawn features and eyes the color of a cloudless Spring sky. “Whaddaya do at the bakery?”

“Cake decorating,” Steve shouts, smiling, and _Jesus,_ this guy's mouth is driving Bucky crazy. His lips are plush and red and Bucky's thinking decidedly inappropriate thoughts as the blond speaks. “I mean, I can bake, and sometimes they have me run the front counter if we’re short-staffed. But I’m really there for decorating.”

“That sounds like a nice job,” Bucky grins, imagining how fucking adorable the blond probably looks in an apron, covered in flour and frosting. “You like it?”

Steve looks like he’s about to answer, but a particularly strong gust of wind turns the umbrella inside out, and as Bucky wrestles with it, it flies from his hand and is gone from sight before he can dash after it.

“Well, fuck,” Bucky laughs, shivering as the rain begins to soak through his clothes. “Should we make a run for it?”

“You can go on ahead,” Steve smiles sadly as Bucky begins to pick up his pace. “I can’t really run. Bad asthma.”

“Steve-” Bucky chuckles, looking down into Steve’s pretty blue eyes. “I offered to share  my umbrella, and I’m not gonna abandon you now just because said umbrella abandoned us. C’mon.”

Bucky hunches down, and Steve gapes at him like he’s grown an extra head or twelve. The expression is possibly the cutest thing Bucky’s ever seen. “Climb on.”

“You cannot possibly be serious right now,” Steve replies, an incredulous grin spreading across his features, lighting up his face in a way that has Bucky fighting for air.

“I absolutely am,” Bucky laughs. “Now, hop on, you’re already soaked.”

 

* * *

 

When they finally reach the bakery, both of them are drenched, and their chests are heaving with laughter as Steve slides off of Bucky’s back. Steve can’t take his eyes off the handsome brunet, the way he throws his head back, the way his gorgeous eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to start the morning,” Buchy gasps, clapping a hand to Steve’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry you ended up getting soaked anyway.”

Steve shrugs. “I usually keep extra clothes in my locker since I’m usually covered in flour and sugar and all anyway by the end of the day. I’ll be all right. I feel terrible, though; you’re gonna have to go through the day like that.”

“No, no,” Bucky grins. “I work at the gym three blocks down. We’ve got plenty of extra clothes lyin’ around, all the branded stuff, ya know?”

“Of course you work at a gym” Steve grins, eyes lingering on Bucky’s broad chest. He can feel his cheeks flush as Bucky smirks down at him. “I mean, you have to be in great shape to run with another person on your back, right?”

“Right,” Bucky smiles, pushing back a couple of tendrils of hair that have escaped his elastic. “Well, Steve, it’s been a pleasure. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve nods, grinning shyly. Bucky begins to walk away, and Steve’s suddenly afraid that if he doesn’t say anything right now then this morning will just be a funny little anecdote. And he doesn’t want this gorgeous man reduced to a story.

“Bucky,” he calls out, smiling when the brunet turns back to face him. “I’m off at four. I’d love to buy you a cup of coffee as a thank you. If you’re not too busy.”

“I’m not too busy,” Bucky shouts back, a pleased grin spreading across his face. “I’ll be back here at four on the dot, Rogers. I’m a big fan of pastries also. Croissants in particular.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Steve laughs as he opens the door to the bakery. “Later, Buck.”

“Later, Steve,” Bucky calls back, waving and then heading off down the street.

Steve doesn’t want to take _all_ the credit for the spring in the brunet’s step, but he’d like to think that maybe he’s a contributing factor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests are very much encouraged and can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or you can just leave one in the comments!


	12. Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bucky, look,” Steve sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “I think it would be fun, you just gotta pick a different hero is all. You can’t be Deadpool.”
> 
> “But, why?” Bucky whines, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. He has to stifle a laugh as Steve groans in frustration. “I like Deadpool. Deadpool’s fun, Steve. I like fun.”
> 
> “Because people _ship_ Spider-Man and Deadpool!” Steve exclaims, throwing his hands up the air. _Always so goddamn dramatic, Rogers,_ Bucky muses with a wry smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay on this one, but today was straight up crazytown. I barely had time to think, let alone write, so fingers crossed this isn't completely terrible. I hope you guys like it!

  * “You _cannot_ buy that,” Steve’s voice is firm and his beautiful blue eyes are narrowed as he stares pointedly at the costume in Bucky’s hand.



The two of them are standing inside one of those pop-up Halloween stores that seem to spring up out of nowhere sometime in mid-September, transforming a genuinely creepy empty storefront into something light and fun. They’ve got a Halloween party to attend in a couple of weeks, and Steve had insisted on getting real costumes this year, now that they’ve both got full-time jobs and some cash to burn.

The brunet grins, tilting his head to the side in confusion as he looks at Steve, grasping the crimson and black fabric tightly in his hands. “Why the hell not? You like Deadpool, Steve. Besides, aren’t Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, like, friends or whatever in the comics?”

Steve sighs, and Bucky can’t help but chuckle at the exasperated eye roll he teases from his friend. The short blond is holding a Spider-Man costume, wringing it in his hands as he glares at Bucky, and Bucky is probably a little _too_ interested in finding out how his best friend looks in that skin-tight lycra. Sure, Steve’s on the small side, but once he’d gotten his asthma under control halfway through high school, he’d put on a little muscle, a little weight. He’s still slim, but he’s wiry, and Bucky catches himself staring more often than he should.

It probably doesn’t help that he’d have fallen for the stubborn blond no matter what he looked like. Bucky’s always found Steve’s sharp features absolutely stunning, but they’ve got nothing on his kind heart, his fiery personality and the goodness that seems to shine from him. Steve’s the sun to Bucky’s moon, has been since the two of them met on the first day of kindergarten, and Bucky can think of nothing better than orbiting the other man for the rest of his days.

“Clearly we frequent different parts of the Internet,” Steve sighs, shaking Bucky from his less-than-platonic thoughts. His shoulders droop as he hangs the Spider-Man costume back up, and Bucky hates the frown playing at Steve’s plush lips. “I’ll just pick something else.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head and leaning back against a display table full of fake tombstones with cheesy epitaphs like _“I shopped, I bought, in debt I rot”_ and _“For Rent: Very small one bedroom apartment, neighbors are dead quiet.”_

“Steve, don’t be ridiculous,” Bucky grins, tucking a strand of dark hair that’s come loose from his ponytail back behind his ear. “You’ve talked about going as Spider-Man for weeks now, and it looks like a pretty well-made costume. You gotta buy it.”

“Well, then you _can’t. Get. That. One,_ ” Steve jabs his finger at the costume in Bucky’s hand after each word to accentuate his point, and now Bucky’s the one frowning. He’s not sure what the hell Steve’s so worked up about, but if buying this Deadpool costume is really going to make his friend this unhappy-

“Fine,” Bucky grumbles. “I’ll find somethin’ else. I just thought it’d be fun if we both went as superheroes. Well, Deadpool’s not exactly a hero, I know, but-”

“Bucky, look,” Steve sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “I think it would be fun, you just gotta pick a different hero is all. You can’t be Deadpool.”

“But, _why?_ ” Bucky whines, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. He has to stifle a laugh as Steve groans in frustration. “I like Deadpool. Deadpool’s fun, Steve. I like fun.”

“Because people _ship_ Spider-Man and Deadpool!” Steve exclaims, throwing his hands up the air. _Always so goddamn dramatic, Rogers_ , Bucky muses with a wry smile.

“So?” Bucky smirks, a hand on his hip, and he knows Steve won’t be able to resist the challenge in his tone.

“People are gonna assume we’re a couple all night, and there are enough rumors about the two of us as it is!” Steve is shouting now, and there are a couple of people staring at them curiously.

Bucky moves in closer, lowering his voice in an effort to calm his friend. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, people already think we’re a thing, and there’s no sense in fueling that fire,” Steve replies, eyes downcast. The blond is wringing his hands together, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and Bucky’s more than a little bit concerned about how nervous the other man is.

“Steve, hey,” Bucky reaches out, grasping the blond’s shoulder, and those too-bright eyes of his snap up to meet Bucky’s, the intensity within them leaving Bucky a little weak in the knees. “Pal, who cares what they think?”

“I _don’t_ care,” Steve groans. “I just-”

“You just what, Steve?” Bucky moves closer, noting the way Steve’s eyes widen, the way his breath catches in his throat as Bucky invades his personal space. It’s almost like-

Almost like-

_Oh._

“Steve,” Bucky wraps a hand around the blond’s small bicep, squeezing gently. “Steve, come on, talk to me. I’m you’re best friend. You can tell me anythin’, you know that.”

“That’s the fuckin’ problem, Bucky,” Steve’s voice breaks as he says Bucky’s name, his eyes desperate, pleading for the brunet to understand. “You’re _just_ my friend, and the rumors make it hard enough that that’s all you are, and-”

Steve’s mouth snaps shut and he flinches back as he realizes he’s just admitted to having feelings that are a little more than friendly for Bucky. Bucky can see him withdrawing, pulling away. Like hell is he going to let that happen now that he knows what Steve feels.

“Steve,” Bucky grins, grabbing his friend and pulling him into a tight hug, refusing to let go no matter how hard Steve tries to wriggle from his grasp. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You don’t want me to dress up as Deadpool because it’ll feed the rumors that you and I are dating? And the rumors make you sad because they’re not true?”

“Oh, Christ,” Steve groans, thrashing in an effort to get out of Bucky’s arms. “Of _course_ you think this is funny. Like it’s a fuckin’ joke. Couldn’t keep my big mouth shut, and now you’re _laughin’_ at me.”

“I’m not laughin’ at you, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, smiling when Steve looks up at him, his eyes wide and hopeful. “I’m smilin’ because I’m happy. Because I feel the same way about you that you do about me.”

“You-” Steve exhales. “You _what?”_

“Steve,” Bucky grins, bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s handsome face. “You wanna be my date to the Halloween party? And every other party we ever go to, maybe?”

“You’re serious,” Steve laughs, his hands gripping Bucky’s hips tight. “Christ, Bucky, why didn’t you _say_ somethin’?”

“I’m sayin’ somethin’ now,” Bucky replies, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Steve’s. “And you’re makin’ me nervous, Steve. You haven’t answered my question.”

“Yes,” Steve giggles. “Yes, I’ll be your date. From here on out.”

“Good,” Bucky breathes, then closes the gap between them and places a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. He pulls away quickly because if he deepens the kiss, then the children milling around the store are going to end up potentially scarred for life.

“Now-” Bucky smirks. “Let’s get these costumes and get the hell out of here so you can model that for me, huh?”

The flush that rises to Steve’s cheeks is the second most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen.

The first is the bashful smile on the blond’s face as he nods and pulls Bucky toward the registers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Requests can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or in the comments!


	13. Did You Know That Your Eyes Are Even Prettier Up Close?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, I’m really sorry about that,” Steve whispers, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth as Bucky begins to laugh. “I told my friends bringin’ me in here was a bad idea.”
> 
> “Yeah, well-” Bucky grins, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own. “I’ve dealt with worse. I won’t lie, though, this would have been better if it happened before you beefed up, Steve. I think you might have broken my nose.”
> 
> **In which Steve's friends drag him into a haunted house and he can't control his reflexes.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen the "somebody gets so scared in haunted houses that they punch an actor" prompt, and several people requested it, so here we are. Hope you guys enjoy my take on it!

“Guys really-” Steve’s eyes flit between the ramshackle house decked out to look like something straight out of a Hammer film and his friends. “I can just wait out here for you. Maybe grab us some snacks while you go through.”

Natasha’s green eyes narrow as she smirks at Steve, snuggling in closer to Clint’s side. Her boyfriend grins over at Sam and Maria who are trying (and failing) not to snicker at Steve’s reluctance.

“Absolutely not,” the redhead replies, shaking her head, fiery hair swinging from side to side. “We came as a group and we’re going in as a group. And that’s final, Steven.”

Steve sighs, resigning himself to a walk through the haunted house. It’s bad enough that he’s playing perpetual fifth wheel to his friends yet again, and now they want him to walk through a creepy old home on some farm just outside of town. Steve’s the first to admit he’s the biggest chicken of the five of them, that he’ll probably be the first to scream when some kid made up to look like a zombie or a clown or whatever jumps out from behind a corner.

And his friends will just laugh and laugh and _laugh_. And remind him that he’s got his inhaler if he needs it. Steve’s lungs are stronger now thanks to a new medication that made it to market last year, and he’s finally hit a growth spurt, his body filling out nicely thanks to time spent at the gym with Sam and Clint now that he can exercise and breathe at the same time. But it’s still not unusual for an attack to occur when he’s frightened. Which he will be.

“Besides,” Sam grins wickedly as he reaches for Maria’s hand. “Your _boyfriend’s_ working the house. He’s one of the spooky actors.”

“He’s not-” Steve sighs, running a hand through his short hair, blue eyes flashing with exasperation. “You know what, let’s just get this over with, all right?”

“There’s that Steve Rogers positivity we all know and love,” Clint teases, pulling Natasha up the porch stairs. The rest of them follow, Steve lingering for a moment to take a deep breath and double check that his rescue inhaler is still in his jacket pocket.

If Bucky Barnes is working this haunted house, he’s _definitely_ going to need it.

 

* * *

 

_The love of your life and his friends just entered_ , Bucky reads the text from his friend T’Challa who’s on ticket duty tonight, snorting once he realizes who T’Challa’s talking about. Bucky’s best wide receiver is well aware of the quarterback’s crush on Steve Rogers, has been for years just like most of the football team. Although, it’s not like Bucky’s tried to keep it a secret.

Bucky’s been interested in the blond since Steve transferred to Middleton High their sophomore year. Despite a multitude of health issues, Steve was a grade ahead of where he should be. Incredibly smart, passionate and funny, Steve had caught Bucky’s attention during their first English class together when he’d gotten into an argument with Brock Rumlow over Oscar Wilde. Bucky’s been flirting with him ever since.

Of course, it’s been in vain. Whenever Bucky tries to compliment Steve, the blond looks almost annoyed, brushing him off completely. A smarter man might have thrown in the towel, let Steve be. But Bucky is not a smarter man, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t ignore Steve Rogers if he tried.

Bucky hears the sound of footsteps and hushed voices, so he shakes himself from his thoughts, focusing on startling the group moving toward him. Just as they’re about to turn the corner, Bucky jumps out, the prop chainsaw in his hands growling as he lets out a howling scream.

And that’s when Steve Rogers punches him square in the nose.

Bucky's always wanted to see stars because of the blond, but this isn't  _quite_ what he had in mind. 

 

* * *

 

On top of being genuinely freaked out as they walk through the haunted house, Steve’s still smarting over Sam’s boyfriend comment. He knows his friends mean well, that they’re only teasing, but Bucky’s been a sensitive subject for Steve for years now.

The current captain of the football team (who just so happens to be the star quarterback) is tall and handsome, has been since they were fifteen. Steve had been struck by the brunet’s good looks from the beginning, and Bucky hadn’t helped matters once he began flirting with Steve after their first English class together.

Steve’s not an idiot. For most of their high school career, he’s been thin and sickly. There’s no _way_ a guy like Bucky’d be into him for real, and he kind of resents the fact that he’s still got a crush on this guy despite the fact that he’s been teasing Steve for two years.

Steve’s wrapped up in these thoughts as he and his friends begin to turn a corner, and somehow he’s moved from the back of the group to the front. So when a tall, broad-shouldered guy jumps out at them with a chainsaw, there’s nothing stopping Steve’s fist from colliding with his nose. The chainsaw drops from his hands, and he crumples, his head knocking against the floor before Steve can catch him.

“Oh, shit,” Sam hisses, dropping down next to the guy a moment after Steve does. “Steve, _Jesus_.”

“It was an accident,” Steve replies, voice frantic as his hands reach out to grab the guy’s shoulders. “Fuck me, I think I knocked him out.”

“No,” a familiar voice groans, and Steve starts as a pair of stormy eyes that he knows all too well blink open. Of _fucking course_ , he’d sucker-punched Bucky.  “I’m conscious, Rogers. Did you know that your eyes are even prettier up close?”

“Oh my god,” Maria snickers. “He really can’t help himself. Steve, hang back here and keep an eye on him. We’ll find the person in charge and make sure Barnes doesn’t have a concussion or something.”

Steve nods, eyes never leaving Bucky’s as his friends head back in the direction of the entrance. Bucky pulls himself into a sitting position, back resting against the wall. Steve maneuvers himself until he’s beside the brunet, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“So, I’m _really_ sorry about that,” Steve whispers, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth as Bucky begins to laugh. “I told my friends bringin’ me in here was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, well-” Bucky grins, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own. “I’ve dealt with worse. I won’t lie, though, this would have been better if it happened before you beefed up, Steve. I think you might have broken my nose.”

“Let me see,” Steve chuckles, moving to sit in front of Bucky and then reaching out and cupping his face, squinting in the dim light. He’s so focused on making sure the brunet isn’t seriously injured that it comes as a complete surprise when Bucky leans in and captures Steve’s lips with his own.

 

* * *

 

Kissing Steve with a probably-broken nose is maybe not one of Bucky’s smarter moves, but he can’t really bring himself to care about the pain as he feels Steve’s lips begin to move against his own. Bucky groans low in his throat, grabbing Steve and pulling him closer, running his tongue along the blond’s bottom lip.

Steve moans, and Bucky takes the opportunity to invade his mouth, shivering at the taste of the blond. Steve’s tongue is warm and inviting against his own, and Bucky’s head is spinning as Steve reaches out and grips his hips, holding tight.

Steve pulls back suddenly, his blue eyes bright, yet confused, his lips red and slightly swollen. Bucky’s heart aches because Steve really is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and all he wants is to keep kissing the blond.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asks, and Bucky might be imagining it, but Steve sounds _angry._

“Uh,” Bucky grins, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “That was a kiss, Steve.”

“Bucky, you can’t-” Steve exhales through his nose, scrabbling backward against the scratched hardwood floor. “I can deal with you flirting with me because you think it’s funny or whatever, but teasing me like that is cruel.”

Steve begins to push himself up, and Bucky’s so surprised by his words that he very nearly lets Steve get away. He manages to snag Steve’s wrist at the last minute, using it to pull himself up and tug Steve closer.

“Steve,” Bucky begins, smiling softly. “Steve, look at me, will ya?”

Steve does, those sapphire eyes annoyed and unsure, and Bucky pulls him closer.

“I’m not really sure what you’re talkin’ about,” Bucky says, squeezing Steve’s hands. “I don’t flirt with you because I think it’s funny. I’m not teasin’ you, Steve. I _like_ you. I’ve had a crush on you for, like, two years now.”

Steve gapes at him, mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a response. Bucky waits, and eventually Steve manages to choke out, “Why didn’t you just _tell me that?”_

“Gee, maybe because whenever I flirted with you, you looked at me like I was crazy?” Bucky chuckles, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist. The blond’s hands come up to rest against Bucky’s chest and there’s a small smile playing at Steve’s lips. “I didn’t think I had a chance with you, Rogers.”

_“You,”_ Steve laughs, pushing Bucky back against the wall, starting a fire low in the brunet’s belly as he presses up against him. _“You_ thought you didn’t have a chance with _me?”_

And then Steve’s mouth is back on Bucky’s, messy and wet and perfect, and Bucky’s nose is fucking _killing_ him, but it’s worth it if he gets to make out with Steve Rogers.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s rolling his hips forward into Bucky’s, delighting in the whimpers he’s teasing from the brunet when he hears a wolf whistle and shouts of encouragement coming from behind them. Steve whirls, face flushing when he sees his friends accompanied by T’Challa. His friends are all grinning like it’s Christmas morning and T’Challa actually flashes the two of them a thumbs up.

“Oh my god!” Natasha exclaims, a smile lighting up her pretty face. “Fucking _finally!”_

“Barnes, I had a feelin’ you’d be kinky, but good _lord_ ,” Clint snickers, shaking his head.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve whispers, running a hand across his face as he glances back at Bucky. “I’d like to apologize in advance for literally anything my idiot friends ever say to you.”

“Your friends can say anything they like, Steve,” Bucky smiles, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Long as I get to keep kissin’ you, I don’t really care. But we should maybe take a trip to the hospital first.”

“Boss wants to see your nose,” T’Challa chuckles. “Make sure you aren’t fakin’ it.”

After a glance at the brunet’s rapidly swelling and bruised nose, Bucky’s boss excuses him for the evening, and as the two of them climb into his car, Steve can’t help smiling.

He should have punched Bucky Barnes _way_ sooner if this was how it was going to turn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	14. Spiked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not moonin’!” Steve hisses, blush deepening further. “I’m keepin’ an eye on the competition.”
> 
> “Right, sure,” Sam grins, turning from Steve as a couple of people wander up to their booth. “Just go talk to him after we’re done here.”
> 
> **In which Steve is trying to figure out how upstart apple farmer Bucky Barnes is getting so many people over to his stall at the market.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SoftObsidian74's prompt: "Spiked Apple Cider and/or the end of the Farmers Market-one our boys is an apple farmer and is selling his cider at tge local farmers market. The other is either a buyer or competing vendor who thinks that any apple cider worth drinking has to have liquor in it." Sorry for the delay, it was a hella busy day. Towns are made up, but it turns out Pennsylvania (which is where I'm from) is, like the fourth largest producer of apples in the states. Pretty neat right? Anyway, hope you guys like this one!

Steve doesn’t get it.

Every year, he registers for a booth at the farmer’s market in the town of Stonewick, Pennsylvania just a couple miles down the road from his farm. Every year he brings fresh apples, apple butter, apple jam and his family’s apple cider, the recipe for which has been a closely guarded secret for generations

But every week for nearly a month and a half, Steve’s been bested. The Rogers family has owned the premier orchard in the county for the better part of two centuries now, and yet, over the last couple of weeks, he’s seen some of his best customers, some of his _friends_ , for god’s sake, patronizing some upstart apple farmer.

James Buchanan Barnes had purchased a small orchard outside of Pinelyn - the next town over - from the Miller family about a year ago, after Old Man Miller had passed. None of his children had been interested in apple farming,  but James Barnes had been. And he’s been a thorn in Steve’s side ever since.

“I just don’t understand it,” Steve grumbles to his business partner, Sam, once the other man has finished selling a few jars of apple butter to a couple of little old ladies. “We sell the same stuff. We offer the same free samples. And somehow he’s getting twice as much foot traffic.”

“Maybe there’s somethin’ special about his stuff?” Sam replies as he rearranges a couple of jars. “Maybe it’s better than ours?”

“I’ll bet it’s because he’s handsome,” Steve sighs, watching as the brunet smiles at a group of giggling middle-aged women. Of course, that’s the moment Barnes decides to look up, waving as he catches Steve’s eye. Thorn in his side or no, Steve can’t deny the guy’s astoundingly attractive. So, he waves back, a tight smile stretching his lips.

The brunet has the audacity to _wink_ at Steve before turning back to his customers.

Sam rolls his eyes when Steve looks back at him. “Right, like you and I are such dogs. Please, Steve. I’m sure there’s just somethin’ we don’t have that he does.”

“I guess,” Steve exhales, walking to his pickup to unload another bushel of apples. “I’d sure like to find out what.”

“Well, Romeo, from the way he looks at you, I don’t think he’d mind you stoppin’ by for a chat,” Sam smirks as Steve flushes, and it’s not the first time Steve would like to smack his friend upside the head. He doubts it’ll be the last.

“Knock it off,” Steve grouses as he begins unloading the apples. “He’s got that redhead over there. They’re probably a thing.”

Sam throws back his head and laughs, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. “You need to talk to more of the vendors here, Steve. She’s his business partner, and he mostly dates men.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he asks, “How the hell do you know all this?”

“Because I’ve been tryin’ to get the redhead - her name’s Natasha, by the way - to go out with me for the better part of three weeks now. Which you would know if you weren’t moonin’ over Barnes.”

“I’m not moonin’!” Steve hisses, blush deepening further. “I’m keepin’ an eye on the competition.”

“Right, sure,” Sam grins, turning from Steve as a couple of people wander up to their booth. “Just go talk to him after we’re done here.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, well, well” Bucky crows as Steve Rogers makes his way over to Bucky’s stall. Natasha’s off checking out the food trucks with Sam, which is great, since the last thing Bucky needs is the caustic redhead watching this particular conversation. “I was wonderin’ if you were ever gonna come say hi. I know we’re technically competitors, but we’re pretty much neighbors here.”

The tall, broad-shouldered blond smiles softly, and Bucky takes a moment to admire the way his blue eyes shine. Steve is possibly the single most attractive person he’s ever seen up close, so of course he’s a direct competitor. Bucky’s life is never easy when it comes to romance.

Well, the _hope_ of romance, anyway. Considering this is the first time since they were introduced by the organizers of the farmers’ market that Steve’s spoken to him.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve grins, running a hand through his short blond hair. He looks decidedly nervous, which Bucky chooses to interpret as a good sign. “Good day for you guys, huh?”

“Can’t complain,” Bucky chuckles, leaning back against their display table. “You come over to chat about business, or is there somethin’ I can do for you?”

“Well, actually-” Steve hedges with a shy chuckle. “I was wonderin’ somethin’.”

_Sweet jumped-up Christ on a sidecar,_ Bucky thinks, unable to contain his smile. _He’s going to ask me out._

“Shoot, Rogers,” Bucky replies, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve hesitates, wringing his hands together, and Bucky can’t help but laugh.

“Out with it, Rogers, come on,” Bucky reaches out and nudges the blond. Steve looks up through those dark lashes of his and _Christ_ , nobody should be allowed to have eyelashes that long, much less a guy as attractive as this one.

“Well, I was wonderin’ if you’ve got some kinda secret over here-” Steve says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “I’ve been doin’ this for years, but the foot traffic you’ve been gettin’ is insane.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open because fuck, he really is the biggest idiot on the planet. Of _course_ this Adonis isn’t asking him out. He wants to know how Bucky’s getting so many people to come over to his booth.

“Oh,” Bucky replies, trying desperately to mask his disappointment. He must be failing because Steve’s brow is furrowed and there’s a frown on his handsome face. “I thought that- nevermind. Here, I’ll show you.”

Bucky circles around the booth, then pulls a bottle of whiskey out from below the display table. Steve’s blue eyes widen comically, and then all of a sudden the blond is laughing so hard that tears are streaming down his handsome face. It’s entrancing.

“Oh my god,” Steve gasps. “I should have known. Of _course_.”

“Oh, what, you think my cider’s no good on it’s own?” Bucky grins. “That I need whiskey to move my product? Besides, what the hell is the point of hot apple cider if you don’t add some liquor to it? And I’ll bet you mine’s better than yours, with or without the whiskey.”

The slow, predatory smile that spreads across Steve’s features has Bucky fighting for air. Steve’s coming around the table, crowding Bucky up against it, and holy _shit_ , he’s going to combust if Steve gets any closer.

“Is that a challenge, Barnes?” Steve practically purrs, sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine.

“Yeah,” Bucky rasps, and fuck, the way Steve’s pupils dilate at the low tone is almost too much to bear. “Yeah, it is.”

“Well, then-” Steve grins, and _Jesus,_  all Bucky wants to do is tangle his fingers in that flannel shirt Steve’s wearing and pull him forward until their mouths meet. “I guess we’ll have to find a way to settle that. Maybe a little contest next weekend? ‘Course, I could understand it if you don’t want to go up against our orchard.”

Bucky laughs, ducking below one of Steve’s arms so he can put some space between the two of them. Sure, he wants Steve close, but he’d also rather not embarrass himself.

“If you think I’m gonna back down just because you’re family’s been doin’ this for hundreds of years, or whatever, you got another think comin’, pal,” Bucky smiles. “I’m more than game.”

“I’ll make it happen, then,” Steve replies, invading Bucky’s personal space yet again. “Got another question for ya. You looked awfully disappointed when I asked about what was drawin’ people to the stall? What’d you think I was gonna ask you?”

Bucky’s beyond fucked. From the glint in Steve’s eyes, the blond knows _exactly_ what Bucky was hoping for, but the guy’s smiling so maybe this won’t be so embarrassing after all.

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “For a second there, I thought you were about to ask me out.”

Steve blushes the prettiest shade of pink Bucky’s ever seen and begins stammering. “Oh, I, um. Well, I. I guess I could ask you. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to ask me out, Steve?” Bucky laughs, grasping one of the blond’s hands in his own. “I don’t want you to if you don’t mean it.”

“No, I,” Steve huffs out a laugh. “I just didn’t know you were interested. I’d love to take you out sometime, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles, squeezing Steve’s hand gently. “Why don’t we finish packing this stuff away, and then maybe we can hit the diner? Get to know each other a little better?”

The smile that breaks across Steve’s face is like the goddamn sun, it’s so bright. “I’d like that a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Requests can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	15. Loser Buys Dinner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, some of you might be considering taking it easy on one of these guys,” Natasha grins, eyes moving over the crowd. “One, because his family has been a pillar in the community since before any of us were born. The other, because he’s only owned an orchard for a little over a year. We would encourage you not to take it easy on either. Vote your conscience, people.”
> 
> **In which the orchards go head to head in a cider contest. Continuation of["Spiked."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8177273/chapters/18977815)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since quite a few people really wanted to know how the contest ended, I wrote this :) It was a lot of fun, and I hope you all like it!

“Ladies and gentlemen of appropriate age,” Natasha calls out to the crowd of adults gathered around Steve’s and Bucky’s stalls. “Thank you for taking time from your busy Saturday evening to stay past the market’s closing to participate in this little competition of ours.”

Steve can’t help but laugh at the cheer that goes up among the vendors and customers gathered around them. He’d only mentioned the bet he and Bucky had going to a couple of the other vendors, thinking it’d be a fun way to blow off some steam after a long day selling their wares. But word had got around until the organizers had contacted both of them and asked if they could make it a little more official. They’d both agreed.

“Now, some of you might be considering taking it easy on one of these guys,” Natasha grins, eyes moving over the crowd. “One, because his family has been a pillar in the community since before any of us were born. The other, because he’s only owned an orchard for a little over a year. We would encourage you _not_ to take it easy on either. Vote your conscience, people.”

Steve catches Bucky’s eye across the crowd, smirking at the handsome brunet. Dinner at the diner last Saturday had gone well enough that they’d met up again mid-week for drinks and a movie, and Steve’s got a good feeling about the two of them. There’s something about Bucky that teases out a lighter, more humorous side of Steve, who some might say takes life just a little too seriously. Steve likes who he is when Bucky’s around.

The brunet makes his way over to Steve, his tall, lean frame bobbing and weaving gracefully through the crowd as Natasha quickly explains the contest procedure. He smiles at Steve, running a hand along the blond’s arm as he reaches him.

“You ready to lose to a rookie, Rogers?” Bucky quips, stormy eyes shining with mirth, and Steve barks out a laugh as he shoves Bucky lightly.

“I’ve got a hell of a reputation on my side, Barnes,” Steve grins. “As well as the best cider in five counties. Got a couple awards to prove it, too. So, no, I’m not ready to lose.”

“Oughta make our own little wager,” Bucky waggles his eyebrows as he smiles. “I mean, sure bragging rights are great and all, but it doesn’t feel like enough somehow.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Steve asks, reaching out to brush a stray lock of Bucky’s longish brown hair from his face. “Loser buys dinner?”

“Somethin’ like that, sure,” Bucky chuckles, grasping Steve’s shoulder and squeezing gently. He turns to walk back to his booth, smiling over his shoulder. “Best of luck, Steve. You’re gonna need it.”

“Cocky son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Sam chuckles, and when Steve turns, his friend is wearing a knowing smirk.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, a dreamy smile playing at his lips. “But I like it.”

 

* * *

 

“You nervous?” Natasha murmurs as she and Bucky pass out cups of hot cider. “Because it would be sort of understandable if you were nervous.”

Bucky laughs, smiling at the people flocking to their stall as he hands out the cider. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Kind of, yes,” Natasha smirks, head tilted to the side in confusion. She glances over at Steve and Sam who are handing out their own cider, wide smiles on their faces as they converse with patrons. “I mean, we’re going up against something of a juggernaut here, Buck. You know that in addition to multiple county and state awards, they’ve won a bunch of regional competitions, right? Hell, I think they were recognized nationally last year - an honorable mention, but still.”

“Exactly,” Bucky grins as he begins filling more cups. “Nat, they have everything to lose by doing this. I mean, sure, they’ll still win awards and sell cider, but we make our mark in the community if we win tonight.”

“And if we lose?”

Bucky chuckles. “Well, as you pointed out yourself, we are going up against something of a juggernaut here. If that’s the case, the outcome will be what everyone suspected, and we get points for trying.”

Natasha laughs, shaking her head, and returns to schmoozing with the people surrounding their stand as she passes out cider. Bucky smiles at her, then glances up to see Steve’s eyes on him. Steve ducks his head, and Bucky’s sure the other man’s fair cheeks are flushing, which is adorable.

But more adorable than that was the soft, fond smile Bucky got a glimpse of before he caught Steve staring.

 

* * *

 

“All right everybody,” the gruff, powerful voice of Chester Phillips, fondly known around town as The Colonel, carries over the crowd. Steve watches with baited breath as everyone gets quiet, the murmurs dying down to silence as they all wait for the main organizer of the farmers market to deliver the results.

“I’ve counted the ballots,” Phillips shouts, looking down from a small stage that had been set up for the contest. “And it was a hell of a lot closer than the other organizers and me expected. But the winner of this impromptu competition is Steve Rogers of Hollow Hill Orchard.”

“Hell yeah,” Sam bellows, punching Steve in the arm as he whoops, drawing laughter from the crowd. “Still the best in town, Rogers. Feel like you can breathe again?”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, glancing across the way, taking in the sad smile on Bucky’s face and the way his shoulders slump. Sure, he’d wanted to win; Steve’s something of a competitive guy and his entire life revolves around his crop and the resulting products. This, though, doesn’t feel quite as good as he thought it would.

 

* * *

 

“Hey there,” Bucky turns at the soft, low voice behind him, lips quirking up when he sees Steve. “You doin’ all right?”

“Rogers, don’t pretend to be all sympathetic when you just came over here to gloat,” Bucky sighs, loading the unused cider into his pickup. Natasha’s already on her way back to his property with leftover jars of apple butter and jam; Bucky had insisted she not wait up.

“I didn’t come over to gloat,” Steve smiles, running a hand through his hair. “I asked Phillips about the totals, you know. Vote-wise. We only won by about 25, and there were at least 300 people here that participated. So, I came to ask if I could try your cider.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he fixes Steve a cup. “Lucky I still had some out. You want any whiskey in it? Because you know it’s not even really hot cider unless there’s booze.”

“I’ve heard that, yeah,” Steve chuckles, reaching out for the cup. “Lemme try it without first, and then we’ll see.”

Steve’s eyes never leave Bucky’s as he takes a sip, and Bucky feels a slow warmth begin to glow in his chest as Steve hums contentedly.

“God damn, Barnes,” Steve grins once he’s swallowed. “That’s some good cider. Not quite as good as ours, but close.”

“Yeah, yeah, you won,” Bucky giggles, rolling his eyes. “Guess I owe you dinner huh?”

“I don’t know,” Steve smirks, setting his cup down on the display table and then backing Bucky toward his truck. “You looked awfully disappointed when our cider won, so I was kind of wonderin’ what you were plannin’ on askin’ for had I lost.”

Bucky inhales sharply when his back hits the side of the truck, exhales a shaky breath at the feel of Steve’s hands on his hips. It’s all he can do not to moan aloud as Steve’s nose trails up the side of his neck.

“‘Course, from the way you were lookin’ at me, I think I have an idea,” Steve whispers, then tugs at Bucky’s earlobe with his teeth, laughing when a high-pitched whimper leaves the brunet’s mouth.

“Do you now?” Bucky breathes, his hands coming up to rest on Steve’s shoulders. Steve pulls back slightly, a shy smile on his face.

“I think so, yes,” he whispers and then those soft, sweet lips are capturing Bucky’s in a kiss, and _Christ_ , it’s a good thing Bucky had grabbed Steve’s shoulders because his knees are buckling. Steve Rogers kisses like he needs it to breathe, like he’ll die if he doesn’t memorize every nook and cranny of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky shudders against him, twisting his fingers in the soft fabric of Steve’s hoodie, letting the blond lead him.

When Steve pulls away, Bucky stumbles forward. He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, laughing softly.

“Jesus, Rogers,” Bucky grins as he pulls back to look at the blond. Steve’s eyes are bright and smiling, and Bucky prays Steve will never, ever stop looking at him this way. “Maybe give a guy some warning before you kiss’m like that, huh? We’re in public for Christ’s sake.”

Steve just laughs, grabbing Bucky’s hand and tugging him toward Main Street. “Come on, Barnes. You got your kiss. Now you owe me a meal.”

Bucky smiles and lets Steve tug him along. Sure, Phillips is probably going to be annoyed that they’d just up and left their stuff, but that’s nothing new and packing up can wait. After all, he does owe Steve dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests/prompts can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	16. You Want a Few Pointers, Leia?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blond stands behind Bucky, and the brunet has to remind himself to breath as he feels that strong frame pressing against his back. He runs his hands down Bucky’s arms, stopping at his wrists.
> 
> “Ok,” the blond breathes into Bucky’s ear, and Bucky shivers at the gravelly edge he hears in the other man’s voice. “First, you gotta choke up on the bat a little. Loosen your grip, too.”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve's solution to the anger Bucky's feeling over being dumped isn't _quite_ what the brunet had in mind. Continuation of ["The Night Is Young."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8177273/chapters/18864725)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you there'd be more of this one :) Hope you guys like it!

“This is fuckin’ absurd, you know that?” Bucky glares at the blond, gripping the baseball bat in his hands tight. After about thirty minutes of intense flirting - and admitting the whole Brock situation - Steve had asked Bucky if he wanted to get outta there. And that’s how Bucky ended up standing here in his bikini top and a pair of Steve’s sweatpants, waiting for a pitching machine to spit a ball out at him.

“Hey-” the other man laughs, leaning back against the chain link fencing around them- “You said your boyfriend dumped you and you needed to release some tension.”

Bucky groans, squaring up and waiting for the first ball. “Yeah, well, forgive my disappointment, Han, but you taking me to the batting cages wasn’t _quite_ what I had in mind.”

A baseball flies forward, and Bucky swings, missing it by a mile. The brunet curses softly under his breath. He hasn’t played baseball since he was a kid, and he was always stronger out in the field than he was at the plate.

Bucky whiffs three more times before the blond chuckles and sidles up beside him. “You want a few pointers, Leia?”

“Sure,” Bucky snarks, but he’s smiling at the warmth in the other man’s pretty blue eyes. “What the hell, right?”

The blond stands behind Bucky, and the brunet has to remind himself to breath as he feels that strong frame pressing against his back. He runs his hands down Bucky’s arms, stopping at his wrists.

“Ok,” the blond breathes into Bucky’s ear, and Bucky shivers at the gravelly edge he hears in the other man’s voice. “First, you gotta choke up on the bat a little. Loosen your grip, too.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies, following his instructions. “Got it.”

The blond steps back, and Bucky misses the warmth of his body immediately. “Now swing away, but don’t pull your head out. Keep your eye on the ball. And I’ve found that a great way to get some additional power into your swing is to imagine the ball as someone you’re angry with.”

“Well, I know who I’m picturing,” Bucky chuckles, doing his best to focus up before the next ball flies at him. He takes a quick breath and then swings, and the ball slams into the metal fencing with a loud clang.

“You’re a natural,” the blond grins when Bucky turns to face him. Bucky huffs out a soft laugh, making his way over to the other man.

“Got a good coach,” Bucky purrs, as he cups the blond’s face in his hands, liking the way the other man’s breath catches in his throat. “Think I owe you a thank you here, but I’d kind of like to know your real name before I kiss you. If that’s all right?”

“Steve,” the blond rasps, wrapping his strong arms around Bucky’s waist and pulling the brunet flush against him. “Steve Rogers.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Steve,” Bucky smiles, fingers tracing back and forth along the man’s pronounced cheekbones. "James Barnes, but everybody calls me Bucky.”

“Nice to-” Steve begins, but Bucky’s silencing him with a kiss, sighing as he feels Steve’s fingers tighten on his hips. The brunet’s always laughed at the hopeless romantics who talk about fireworks or time standing still or just _knowing_ when they kiss the one for the first time, but holy shit, Steve Rogers’s mouth on his is making him reconsider his previously cynical stance.

Bucky pulls away a moment later, gratified by how dazed Steve looks. The black of his pupils is encroaching on the blue of his eyes, and those plush lips of his are red and a little swollen. It takes every ounce of Bucky’s self-restraint not to take Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth and suck until the blond’s begging for it. But he manages, stepping back with a grin.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Steve-” Bucky smirks as he heads back to the plate to await the next pitch- “I have some anger I need to work out on these baseballs.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Requests/prompts can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	17. Warm You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s eyes drift to the giggling high schoolers and he groans. “I really hate you, you know?”
> 
> “You don’t,” Bucky smirks, hopping down to greet their riders, and Steve sighs, smiling fondly down at the brunet as he launches into his spiel about the haunted woods that surround the farm, and only those brave enough to enter should dare to climb aboard and blah, blah, blah.
> 
> If only Bucky had the slightest clue about how much Steve doesn’t hate him.
> 
> **In which Bucky convinces Steve to help out at a haunted hayride.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one's for zombified419 who wanted Bucky dragging Steve to haunted hayride/house despite it not being a thing Steve is into. I hope you like it!

“I cannot believe-” Steve sighs as he slips on a hooded black robe, shivering against the cold as he stands in the bed of a large farm truck- “That you are making me do this.”

Bucky just grins, batting his eyelashes, and Steve can see the other man’s breath fogging the air before him. “Stevie, come _on,_  it benefits a good cause. All the money goes toward cancer research. For _kids,_ Steve. And besides, you get to spend time with me. And you _love_ me.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves Bucky playfully despite the fact that his heart is beating _way_ too fast in his scrawny chest. He’s learned over the last couple of years that reading into his friend’s flirty nature is the quickest way to cause himself heartache.

“Besides, you know I wouldn’t have dragged you along if we’d had a choice,” Bucky chuckles. “I know Halloween’s not really your thing, but half the hayride guides came down with the stomach flu.”

“Stomach flu, right,” Steve grumbles. “Buncha dopey college freshmen have hangovers, so I get to spend my Saturday night freezin’ to death on a haunted hayride.”

“We were those hungover college freshmen two years ago, Stevie,” Bucky teases, poking his friend in the side. Steve swats his hand away, sighing.

“Still freezin’ to death,” he laments, throwing his hands up in the air melodramatically. Bucky throws his head back and laughs just like Steve knows he will. Bucky finds his flair for the dramatic very amusing, and Steve likes it when Bucky laughs, so sometimes he uses that to his advantage.

“Hang on, then,” Bucky chuckles, stripping out of his robe and pulling off the sweatshirt he’d thrown on before they’d left their apartment.

“Here,” Bucky continues, undoing the clasps of Steve’s robe and sliding it from his shoulders. The tiny blond shivers again, but this time it’s got nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the feel of the brunet’s long fingers lingering along his arms.

“What are you doin’?” Steve grouses as Bucky makes him lift his arms.

“Givin’ you my sweatshirt, you big baby,” Bucky laughs, moving to tug it over Steve’s head. Steve snatches it from Bucky’s hands, glaring.

“Thank you for the kindness, but I can dress myself, _mom_ ,” Steve bites out as he dons the baggy pullover. It’s thick and warm and it smells like Bucky, so as far as Steve’s concerned, it’s perfect. Steve grabs the robe from the floor of the truck bed and pulls it back on. “You’re not gonna be too cold?”

“Nah, this shirt and the robe oughta be fine for me,” Bucky grins, motioning to the rust-colored henley that stretches taut across his chest, highlighting his impressive frame. God, of all the unobtainable people Steve could have fallen for, it just _had_ to be his best friend and roommate.

“If you’re sure,” Steve smiles up at Bucky, liking the way the brunet’s eyes shine. “Thanks.”

“Least I could do, really,” Bucky chuckles, eyes flicking toward their first group for the night, most of whom are teenagers chattering excitedly as they make their way toward the truck. “Thanks again for comin’, Steve. This’d be a real pain on my own, you know?”

Steve’s eyes drift to the giggling high schoolers and he groans. “I really hate you, you know?”

“You don’t,” Bucky smirks, hopping down to greet their riders, and Steve sighs, smiling fondly down at the brunet as he launches into his spiel about the haunted woods that surround the farm, and only those brave enough to enter should dare to climb aboard and blah, blah, blah.

If only Bucky had the slightest clue about how much Steve doesn’t hate him.

 

* * *

 

Bucky is having one hell of a time maintaining his creepy persona throughout the haunted hayride.

For a while, it’s because he’s trying desperately not to laugh every time Steve jumps and shouts along with the riders when something jumps out of the woods to scare them. The tour guides are supposed to be impassive and intimidating, and while Steve is neither of these things at the moment, at least he’s here.

By the time they’re on to their final group for the night, Bucky couldn’t be further from amused. Steve’s body is rigid, his shoulders tense and eyes wary throughout the ride, but it’s got nothing to do with the jump scares that the blond seems to have gotten used to.

No, Steve’s a nervous wreck because there’s a big guy beside him who refuses to take no for an answer. Bucky can’t hear a word the guy’s saying, but the way Steve’s face pales and the lascivious smile on the stranger’s face tells Bucky all he needs to know. Somehow, he manages to maintain his character and his cool throughout the ride, but once they’re out of the truck bed, he’s striding toward Steve and the other man.

The guy’s got him backed against the truck, and Steve’s  posture is defensive, aggressive even as he pushes back against the man’s broad chest, but his eyes are those of a small animal caught in a trap.

Fury burns in Bucky’s chest as he stalks up to them, grabbing the man by his shoulder and tugging him away from Steve.

“You wanna back the hell off, pal?” Bucky rounds on him, standing protectively in front of Steve, hands curled into fists. “He’s clearly not interested.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the other man sneers. “Didn’t realize the twink was taken.”

“Yeah, well, he is,” Bucky growls, bristling further at the guy’s attitude. Of course, telling the other man that they’re together is a lie, but it’s the quickest way to get Steve out of harm’s way. And since Bucky very much wishes they _were_ together, the lie’s not exactly a hard sell. “Now get the fuck outta here before you and I have a problem.”

The stranger backs away, pouting and glaring petulantly at the two of them before walking off. Bucky hears a shaky, harsh inhale behind him and turns to see Steve puffing at his inhaler, trying to regulate his breathing.

“Shit, Stevie, you all right?” Bucky grabs the blond’s narrow shoulders, waiting for him to speak. Steve nods, taking another puff. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I should have stepped in earlier.”

“I coulda handled it, Buck,” Steve’s voice is raspy and strained, but there’s color returning to his pallid cheeks. “But thank you. Geez, but he was big.”

“C’mon,” Bucky exhales a nervous laugh, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I owe you a hot chocolate at the very least.”

“With marshmallows?” Steve grins up at him, and Bucky’s heart melts at the sight.

“As many as you want, Steve.”

 

* * *

 

“Fuckin’ freezin’,” Steve murmurs as they wait in line at the concession stand. The haunted house on the property is open for another hour, so snacks and hot beverages are still available. Bucky chuckles, opening his robe up and pulling Steve close.

“What on earth-” Steve huffs as Bucky wraps his arms around him- “Are you doing now?”

“Keepin’ you warm, pal,” Bucky chuckles, enveloping the two of them in the dark fabric. Steve fidgets for a moment or two, but eventually settles against his friend, placing his hands on Bucky’s arms which are wrapped securely around his waist.

“Swear to god, Barnes, treat me like I’m your goddamn boyfriend sometimes,” Steve blurts out, flushing as he realizes what he’s just said. “I mean-”

“That really so bad, Steve?” Bucky leans close and whispers, and Steve shudders at the feel of the brunet’s warm breath against his ear. “The idea bother you that much? Because I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not watchin’.”

“Bucky,” Steve breaths, tightening his grip on Bucky’s arms.

“Am I wrong, Steve?” Bucky continues, pressing a light kiss to the sensitive skin behind Steve’s ear, and Steve can’t help the small gasp that escapes him. “If I am, say the word, and I’ll back off. But I want you, and I’m sick of actin’ like I don’t.”

“You-” Steve turns in Bucky’s arms, looking up into smiling blue-gray eyes. “You want _me?”_

“Don’t sound so surprised, Rogers,” Bucky chuckles, leaning forward. “You’re a hell of a catch. But like I said, I can back off if you want.”

Steve surges forward, fisting his hands in Bucky’s shirt and hauling the brunet into a fierce kiss. Steve feels his teeth clack against Bucky’s and pulls back, laughing as he winces.

“Sorry,” Steve giggles. “Sorry, that was awful, I just. I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. And I don’t want you to back off.”

“Please never apologize for kissing me,” Bucky chuckles, leaning in to rest his forehead against Steve’s for a moment. “It could never be awful, Steve. Not with you.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” an impatient voice sounds behind them. “Could you maybe pay attention to somethin’ other than each other for a sec? You’re up.”

Bucky laughs, pulling away from Steve and then grabbing his hand and tugging him forward as he shouts over his shoulder, “Sorry about that!”

“C’mon,” Bucky chuckles grinning down at Steve. “Let’s get you that hot chocolate and get you home. I can think of a couple great ways to warm you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests/prompts can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments!


	18. Play the Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s train of thought stops short as he encounters a stack of hay bales blocking the way, and groans. “Oh, fuck me.”
> 
> “At least let a guy buy you dinner first, Rogers,” Steve hears a familiar voice chuckling behind him and whirls to see Bucky standing there. 
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve manages to get lost in a corn maze.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lovelyladylilac who wanted Steve and Bucky in a corn maze and was content to let me dream up the rest. I hope you all like it!
> 
> (Also, I swear I have not forgotten my WIPs. Updates are coming, things have just been a bit crazy the last couple of weeks.)

“All right,” Steve murmurs to himself as he turns in a slow circle, hay crunching beneath his boots. “All right, Rogers, you’re not an idiot. So, you took a couple of wrong turns and lost your group. Not a big deal; you can figure this out.”

Steve’s blue eyes dart around, taking in the ears of corn that tower over him. Not that it’s hard to tower over Steve - he’s only 5’4”, after all. It’s not the first time he wishes he were a bit taller, and he’s sure it won’t be the last.

He’d been wandering through the maze with his friends Natasha and Sam, and a couple of coworkers - Bucky, Clint and Maria - and had just taken a moment to admire the sway of the stalks in the cool, early evening breeze, and they’d been gone.

Steve settles on turning left and moves forward, the rustle of the corn, which had seemed pleasant when surrounded by friends, now alien and a little menacing. Steve’s not one to scare easy, but he really, really doesn’t want to get stuck in this corn maze alone after dark. He shivers, trying very hard not to think of He Who Walks Behind the Rows in “Children of the Corn.”

“This is what I get for tryin’ to be sociable at work,” Steve grumbles to himself, as he continues traipsing through the maze.

Steve’s been working at Shield Security Systems for nearly eight months, and up until about two months ago he’d managed to avoid hanging out with coworkers outside the office with the exceptions of Sam and Nat, since they’d been the reason Steve knew about the opening in the marketing department in the first place.

And then James Buchanan Barnes had somehow managed to convince him after six months of pestering that coming to the occasional happy hour wouldn’t be so bad. Steve had agreed and then the floodgates had opened. And because of his weakness for the handsome brunet, Steve’s lost in a corn maze, utterly alone as the sun dips ever closer toward the horizon.

But, really, how was Steve supposed to resist Bucky? The man towered over him at six feet, had eyes the color of a summer sky just before a big storm and a jaw that could cut glass. And despite Steve’s reluctance to get to know his coworkers, Bucky had been so _nice_. Steve’s honestly surprised he’d held out as long as he had.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky’d wheedled this afternoon as they’d stood sipping coffee in the company kitchen. “It’s Friday. We hit this corn maze, maybe a hayride or a haunted house? Then we all go out for drinks and some food. Say you’ll come, _please?”_

And then Bucky had batted those long, dark lashes of his, those full lips pouting, and Steve had caved, just like he always does.

Steve’s train of thought stops short as he encounters a stack of hay bales blocking the way, and groans. “Oh, _fuck me_.”  
  
“At least let a guy buy you dinner first, Rogers,” Steve hears a familiar voice chuckling behind him and whirls to see Bucky standing there.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s never had much trouble getting the people he’s interested in to notice him. He’s a good-looking guy, he knows. He’s fairly charming, and has a solid sense of humor. Bucky Barnes isn’t perfect, but overall, he thinks he’s a pretty damn good catch.

And then Steve Rogers had walked into his life and blown that idea to hell. Short, slim Steve Rogers and his lovely blond hair and his perfect blue eyes and his lush lips wouldn’t even give Bucky the time of day for the first couple of months of his employment.

Not that it stopped Bucky from trying. He’d endured Steve’s stilted small talk and narrowed eyes filled with suspicion. He’d made it a point to be friendly, to chat with Steve whenever he got the chance. He’d invited Steve out for happy hour repeatedly despite being turned down every goddamn time.

“He’s dated guys before,” Natasha shrugged one afternoon when Bucky has asked what the hell he was doing wrong. “Maybe he’s just not into you.”

And as disappointing as the thought was - because Steve was finally warming up, giving Bucky a glimpse into that stubborn, passionate, fascinating head of his - Bucky had to admit Natasha was probably right.

So, it had come as one hell of a shock when the blond finally started accepting Bucky’s invitations to hang out with people after work.

Which is how Bucky finds himself back-tracking through a corn maze, eyes peeled for the slight blond once he realizes Steve’s been separated from the group. He might have missed the blond coming to an abrupt stop in front of a stack of hay bales if it weren’t for the bright red cardigan he’d worn over his usual button-up today.

“Oh, _fuck me_ ,” Steve groans, shoulders slumping as he stares up at the bales.

 _God, would I like to,_ Bucky thinks with a smirk, musing that maybe it’s finally time to gather up his courage and make his move.

“At least let a guy buy you dinner first, Rogers,” slips out of Bucky’s mouth before he really has time to think about it.

 

* * *

 

“Oh thank god,” Steve can feel the wide, grateful smile that breaks across his face when he sees the brunet, ducking his head bashfully as Bucky throws his head back and laughs. “Thought I was gonna die alone in here. Shoulda mentioned my sense of direction is shit.”

“Nah, that’s all right,” Bucky’s grin is almost predatory as he strides toward Steve. “I like swoopin’ in to save the day.”

“And who said I needed savin’?” Steve teases, voice sharper than he intends it to be. Bucky just smirks.

“I mean, I can head right back out and let you find your own way, Rogers,” Bucky purrs, and Jesus, the brunet is standing so _close_. Steve feels his back hit the hay barrier, inhaling sharply as Bucky leans even closer, and _lord_ , does he need to smell so good? “If that’s what you want.”

“No, no,” Steve tries to keep his voice light and teasing, but it comes out breathy, needy. Bucky’s pupils dilate, and _shit_ , Steve can feel the other’s man’s exhales on his lips. “By all means, play the hero.”

“I ever tell you what a pretty damsel you make, Rogers?” Bucky’s grin is wicked, like he’s trying to rile Steve on purpose. Knowing the brunet, that’s _exactly_ what he’s doing.

“I ever tell you to shut your goddamn mouth, Barnes?” Steve bites out, hissing as Bucky’s fingers dig into the scant meat of his hips.

“Go ahead, then, Steve,” Bucky whispers. “Shut me up.”

Steve has to hop slightly to grab the back of Bucky’s head, pulling him down until their lips meet, and he can’t stop the content sigh that leaves his lungs as Bucky gathers him up in his arms, holding him tight.

The brunet’s lips are a little chapped, but Steve can’t bring himself to care as Bucky deepens the kiss, skilled tongue curling against Steve’s own. Bucky pulls back a little, biting down on Steve’s bottom lip and sucking gently until Steve’s hips buck forward and he groans.

“Not fuckin’ you in a corn maze, Barnes,” Steve chuckles breathlessly, heart racing at the wide smile on Bucky’s face.

“You sayin’ you’ll fuck me someplace else, Rogers?” Bucky’s voice is low and raspy, and Steve feels his cock twitch with interest at the sound.

He smiles. “I’m sayin’ I’ll think about it.”

“Well then,” Bucky exhales a laugh, cupping Steve’s face and kissing him quickly before backing off and grabbing Steve’s hand, tugging him along. “Let’s get you out of this corn maze.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests/prompts can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	19. Is That Too Forward?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh,” Steve replies, eyes widening because he was _not_ expecting that. “Yeah, actually, I don’t think any of us thought of that; we don’t get many jocks here. I’d imagine it’s because it can be kind of difficult to be open in that environment. Plus, all the student athletes always seem completely swamped, so I doubt many of them have the time even if they are out.”
> 
> Bucky shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. “Can be tough, yeah, but I can make the time. And the team’s been great. Couple of ‘em even offered to introduce me to some cute guys.”
> 
> **In which Bucky is a hockey player with an idea for LGBT History Month, Steve is the president of the university's GSA, Sam is sort of playing matchmaker and Natasha is amused.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SoftObsidian74 who requested a High School/College LGBT History Month meet-cute or meet-ugly. I went with meet-cute because I am a sap and I needed something cute today. Hope you enjoy it!

“Steve, hey!” Steve Rogers looks up from the philosophy textbook he’s reading as he waits for the rest of the Gay-Straight Alliance to convene at their standard meeting spot in the student center. As always, he’s early, since he doesn’t think it would do for the president of the group to be late.

The short, wiry blond smiles at the sight of his friend and roommate, Sam Wilson, as he enters the room. His eyes widen slightly at the tall, dark-haired young man who follows him inside. Sam plays for the university’s hockey team, so Steve’s not unused to his friend bringing around impossibly attractive, unobtainable student athletes. Still, this long-haired brunet with steely gray eyes and a soft smile is particularly breathtaking.

“Got somebody I want you to meet,” Sam grins, pulling the brunet forward. “Steve Rogers, this is one of my teammates, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is my roommate Steve.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” Steve grins, extending his hand and marveling at the way Bucky’s swallows his up. “You’re the transfer starting at center this year, right? Sam can’t shut up about how great you are.”

Bucky laughs, blushing, and _Jesus,_ the way the brunet’s skin pinks up is gorgeous. “Yeah, well, I hope I don’t disappoint. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to get recruited to play Division-I hockey at a school like this halfway through college, but it’s gonna be a challenge.”

“Man, you’re gonna be great,” Sam chuckles, shoving his teammate playfully as Bucky releases Steve’s hand. “Steve, tell him he’s gonna be great, will ya?”

“If Sam thinks so, I’m sure it’s true,” Steve smiles, liking the way Bucky grins back at him.

“Oughta come to practice sometime, Steve,” Bucky smirks, steely eyes flicking over his slender frame, and now Steve’s the one blushing. “Make sure your friend’s not exaggerating my abilities. I hear they sometimes consult with you on strategy for big games since you’re so sharp, so your seal of approval would certainly help my confidence.”

“Um,” Steve stammers, trying desperately to keep his cool because it seems like the handsome brunet is flirting with him. Which is an absurd thought because very few people flirt with scrawny guys like him, much less broad-shouldered hockey players with perfect smiles. “Um, yeah, sometimes; I played when I was a kid before my asthma got bad, and I’ve always been an avid fan. I’ll just, uh, check in with Sam and maybe stop by sometime next week?”

Bucky smiles and nods, and Steve decides that he needs to redirect this conversation immediately, before he embarrasses himself.

“You gonna stay with Sam for the meeting or you just passin’ through?” Steve asks.

“Stayin’,” Bucky replies, settling into one of the hard plastic chairs scattered around the room. Sam takes a seat beside him, winking at Steve in a way that makes the small blond itch to smack him upside the head. “I asked Sam to point me in the right direction, since he’s always talkin’ about how his friend’s the president of the GSA. Wanted to help out for LGBT History Month if I still can. I have an idea I wanna run by you, actually.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Steve answers, nodding and smiling, sitting back down. “It’s always really nice to have extra help, and it’s early in the month yet. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you guys have some great exhibits up around campus about LGBT pioneers in different fields,” Bucky settles into a chair, leaning forward to address Steve. “Business, science, the arts. All really cool. But I noticed there’s nothin’ in the athletic facility. I figure maybe you don’t have any out student athletes in the organization, so I thought I could be a help there, maybe be a liaison to the athletic department? Talk to them and see if I could put together some kind of LGBT icons in sports kind of thing?”

“Oh,” Steve replies, eyes widening because he was _not_ expecting that. “Yeah, actually, I don’t think any of us thought of that; we don’t get many jocks here. I’d imagine it’s because it can be kind of difficult to be open in that environment. Plus, all the student athletes always seem completely swamped, so I doubt many of them have the time even if they are out.”

Bucky shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. “Can be tough, yeah, but I can make the time. And the team’s been great. Couple of ‘em even offered to introduce me to some cute guys.”

Steve doesn’t miss the look Bucky shoots at Sam or the way his roommate snickers.

“How thoughtful,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes and grinning. “Anyway, yes, I think that’s a great exhibit idea, Bucky. Thank you for volunteering to set that up, and please, let me know if you need anything.”

“Oh, I will, Steve,” Bucky winks, and Steve can feel the flush rising to his face as he tries very, very hard not to smile like an idiot. Because against all odds, it would appear that this guy is really and truly flirting with him.

 

* * *

 

“Bucky!” The brunet’s eyes snap toward the boards at the shout. Steve is standing on the other side, a big smile on his finely-drawn face, an oversized sweater hanging from his lithe frame as he waves. There’s a petite, curvy redhead standing beside him, a smirk gracing her pretty features. Bucky recognizes her as Natasha, the vice president of the GSA

Bucky chuckles, skating over to the two of them, mentally reminding himself to try to be cool. From what Sam’s told him and what Bucky’s observed on his own, the blond is _so_ his type. Steve’s smile lights up his beautiful blue eyes, and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Whether it’s because he’s excited or cold, Bucky can’t tell, but it’s adorable, regardless.

“Hiya, Steve,” Bucky grins as he comes to a stop. “Hey, Nat. How you guys doin’?”

“Great,” Steve bubbles, smiling even as he wraps his arms around his slight frame and shivers.

“Can’t complain,” Natasha replies, clearly amused by Steve’s enthusiasm. “You?”

“Doin’ good,” Bucky chuckles, turning his gaze back to Steve. “You come to see if I’m the center everybody expects me to be?”

“Well, that was my intention, but I forgot how fuckin’ cold it gets in here,” Steve laughs, rubbing his hands along his arms. “And we both wanted to tell you how great the display in the lobby looks. You and Sam did an amazing job, so I wanted to thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time between classes and practice to put together so much great information about the LGBT community in sports.”

“Hey, thank _you_ for letting me put it together and trusting the two of us not to goof it up,” Bucky replies. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen your roommate with a hot glue gun, but he cannot be trusted. And hang on a sec, I think I can help with the cold thing.”

“Oh, you don’t-” Steve protests, but Bucky’s already skating over to the doorway and stepping off the ice. He makes his way to his duffel bag, digging around until he finds what he’s looking for, then heads over to where Steve and Natasha are standing.

“Here,” Bucky smiles, holding up one of his zip-up hoodies. “Can’t guarantee it smells pristine comin’ from that bag, but it’s clean. Should do the trick if you wanna hang around. Here-” Bucky smirks, shaking it out and draping it over the blond’s narrow shoulders- “Perfect. You look adorable.”

“Um,” Steve ducks his head, but Bucky can see the blush staining his cheeks, spreading to his slender, elegant neck. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“My pleasure, Steve,” Bucky replies, flashing a toothy grin as Steve’s beautiful blue eyes snap up to meet his.

“Well, would you look at the time,” Natasha laughs, looking down at her empty wrist and heading toward the exit. “Gotta get to class. Bucky, really, the display is wonderful, thank you. Steve, have fun watching practice and I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Ok, bye!” Steve calls after the redhead, looking a little dazed, and _god,_ but he’s the cutest damn thing Bucky’s ever seen. The blond turns back to him, looking up shyly through long, dark lashes, and it takes every ounce of Bucky’s restraint not to pull Steve into his arms and kiss him breathless.

“Guess you better get back on the ice, huh?” Steve’s voice is soft, like he’s afraid of spoiling the strange moment between them. And then the blond’s smirking up at him and _fuck_ , it’ll be a miracle if Bucky can focus on practice at all. “Gotta show me your skills, remember?”

“Steve,” Bucky purrs as he moves into the blond’s personal space, delighting in the shiver that runs through the smaller man. “I’d be happy to demonstrate my skills for you _any time._ On or off the ice.”

“Well, then,” Steve chuckles, a little breathless, as he runs tentative fingers down Bucky’s arm. “Why don’t we start with on the ice and then go from there?”

“Can go from there be coffee later tonight?” Bucky asks, grasping Steve’s hand as the blond begins to back off. “Or is that too forward?”

“No,” Steve laughs, squeezing Bucky’s hand gently before pulling away and walking toward the bleachers. “No, I think coffee later sounds perfect.”

 _Yeah,_ Bucky muses as he stumbles back onto the ice. _Yeah, concentrating on practice is going to be a challenge_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests/prompts can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	20. Liquid Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d like to remind you-” Natasha bites out, voice icy. “That the Westview Autumn Gala is the reason we’re able to make the holidays something fun for the kids stuck in the pediatric ward every year. You know, the ward you work in? I assumed maybe you’d want to help, but if you really feel that strongly-”
> 
> “God, all right,” Steve groans, laughing. “I’ll volunteer as tribute, then. For the kids.”
> 
> **In which Dr. Steve Rogers reluctantly agrees to participate in a charity auction for the hospital and catches the eye of a certain brunet.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is less cozy autumn fic and more someone tagged me in amazing photoset on [tumblr](http://laroj.tumblr.com/post/150669584818) and I set it in the month of October because it was begging to be written, and I didn't think you guys'd mind. So, thanks for that kiriei, and I hope you all like this one :)

“You’re absolutely sure that there are no other suckers in this hospital willing to participate?” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down at the petite, smiling redhead standing before him.

Natasha Romanoff, the Director of Marketing and Community Outreach at Westview Medical Clinic, laughs softly. And while the raspy, pleasant sound usually puts a smile on Steve’s face, he can’t quite manage one at the moment. He’s got dozens of patients to see, plenty of procedures to take care of, and yet he’s discussing participating in some gala for the hospital instead of doing his job.

“No other suckers I haven’t already asked about a million times,” Natasha replies. “Look, Steve, I get it. The auction sounds like a completely idiotic idea, but there’s nothing rich people love more than paying money to try to set themselves or one of the kids up with a good looking doctor. And it’s this weekend, and you know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. I know you hate this kind of thing.”

“The idea of someone buying a date with me is just so _strange_ ,” Steve grumbles, fingers playing with the stethoscope around his neck. “And the whole things seems like such a waste of time.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow, and Steve immediately regrets his phrasing.

“I’d like to remind you-” Natasha bites out, voice icy. “That the Westview Autumn Gala is the reason we’re able to make the holidays something fun for the kids stuck in the pediatric ward every year. You know, the ward _you_ work in? I assumed maybe you’d want to help, but if you really feel that strongly-”

“God, all right,” Steve groans, laughing. “I’ll volunteer as tribute, then. For the kids.”

Natasha chuckles, making a note on the clipboard in her hands. “For the kids. Good. And thanks, Rogers. I’ll see you Saturday night.”

“It’s not a costume thing is it?” Steve calls after her, hands clenching as Natasha’s throaty laugh echoes through the hallway. “Don’t laugh at me; it’s almost Halloween and I know you’re sadistic enough to turn it into a costume party.”

“Lucky for you, it isn’t this year,” Natasha shouts over her shoulder. “Black tie, Rogers. So you better get out and rent a tux.”

Steve heaves a sigh of relief. Not that he doesn’t enjoy a costume party among friends, but it’ll be much easier to mingle with the wealthy crowd in attendance if he at least _looks_ the part.

 

* * *

 

“Who is _that?”_ Bucky Barnes grins over at his friend Sam as he snags them a couple of glasses of mulled wine from a server. Sam Wilson, one of the best pediatric surgeons at Westview, follows Bucky’s gaze, smirking when he catches sight of a tall, broad-shouldered blond looking decidedly uncomfortable and out of place in a tuxedo, his tumbler filled with a golden brown liquid that Sam assumes is probably bourbon.

“That-” Sam replies, smiling at his wealthy friend and taking the drink he’s proffering - “Is Dr. Steven Grant Rogers. Pediatric oncologist and all-around great guy. And I have it on good authority that both women _and_ men will be able to bid on the pleasure of his company tonight.”

“Well, isn’t that a delightful turn of events,” Bucky grins, sipping on the warm, spiced wine. Sam chuckles at the sly expression on the brunet’s face as his eyes flick back to Steve. Sam’s known Bucky since their Yale days, and the look on his face is a familiar one; he’s seen something he wants and god help anyone or anything that stands in his way. Sam sends up brief prayer for Steve. “And here I was thinking I might not get to participate in the auction because I prefer gentlemen.”

Steve’s in the middle of fiddling with the collar of his dress shirt when he looks up and catches Bucky staring. Steve straightens up, a light blush coloring his cheeks, but the man doesn’t break eye contact. Which is something of a feat for Steve Rogers. Sam’s on good terms with the other doctor considering they work together a fair amount, and he knows Steve’s beyond shy. So the way Bucky’s lips curl into a soft smile as he basically eye-fucks the blond? That’s probably just about killing Steve.

Sam snorts and rolls his eyes, before taking a gulp of his drink. He winces and makes a mental note that mulled wine is clearly not something he should guzzle before replying, “Guess I can’t count on you buying a date with me so I don’t have to hang out with some old biddy, huh?”

“Well, it’ll really depend on who I have to outbid for blondie,” Bucky smirks, shrugging. “And, really, overspending tonight’s not a major concern. After all, it’s for the good of the children and I _am_ on the hospital’s board. So if I drop more cash than anticipated, well, I’ve spent my dough on worse things.”

“No doubt about that,” a sultry female voice chuckles, and the two of them turn to see Natasha Romanoff standing behind them, resplendent in a fitted black evening gown, her deep red hair framing her face in loose curls. As always, his coworker takes Sam’s breath away, and the grin on her face suggests that she knows it. “And, Wilson, if Bucky can’t spare the funds, and the bid for you doesn’t get too high, I might be able to help you out of a jam.”

“Natasha,” Bucky smiles, grabbing and kissing her hand, his eyes flicking back and forth between Sam and the redhead. “Lovely to see you, as always. And the event’s beautiful, though I’d never expect anything less from you.”

“If I didn’t know you better, Barnes, I’d think you were flirting,” Natasha grins, hands on her hips. “Although, it _does_ seem that someone’s caught your eye.”

Bucky laughs, nodding, “Well, I’ll let the two of you chat; there’s someone I’d like to meet.”

And with a wink, Bucky Barnes departs, leaving Sam to fend for himself conversationally with the one woman who nearly always leaves him speechless.

 

* * *

 

“Festive in here, isn’t it?” Steve jerks slightly, eyes lighting on the attractive brunet who’d been chatting with Sam and Natasha a few minutes ago. The man grins at Steve, gesturing at the pumpkins, hay bales and twinkle lights decorating the room. Natasha’d managed to book the gala at an old foundry that had been converted into event space, and the whole thing’s got a warm, rustic feel to it.

Steve smiles softly, nodding as the stranger points to his near empty glass. “Grab you another?”

“Well, it’s an open bar,” Steve replies with a chuckle. “So, sure. You can grab me another free drink. Bourbon, neat.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” the brunet grins over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bar. The guy must be somebody important because he’s served immediately, and he walks back to Steve, glass in hand. Steve takes a moment to admire the man’s lean frame in his well-fitted black tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back from his handsome face. The brunet’s features are simultaneously sharp and vulnerable; high cheekbones and a strong jaw offset by wide, bright eyes, full lips and just a little softness under the chin.

“Here you are, sir,” the stranger hands Steve the tumbler with a slight bow, and Steve can’t help chuckling. “I’m Bucky.”

“Steve,” Steve replies, nodding as he accepts the glass. “Steve Rogers. And thanks.”

“It’s my genuine pleasure,” Bucky smirks, stormy gray eyes sizing Steve up, and _lord_ , Steve wonders what it’d be like to have those intense eyes looking up into his own, those plush lips wrapped around his-

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice breaks through his entirely inappropriate thoughts. The brunet is smirking, and Steve can feel a hot flush creeping down his neck.

“I’m sorry, I spaced,” Steve grins bashfully, running a hand along the back of his neck. “These kind of parties aren’t really my scene and I’m easily intimidated.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky grins, nudging him playfully, and Steve can’t help chuckling. “Sam over there tells me you’re an oncologist. If you’re not intimidated by fighting cancer, you have no reason to be afraid of a bunch of stuffy old rich people.”

Steve snorts, blushing further at the laugh that bubbles out of Bucky’s pretty pink mouth.

“So, you know Sam?” Steve questions, eager to find his conversational footing with this man. Bucky nods as he sips on what Steve thinks is mulled wine.

“Yeah, we were roommates at Yale,” Bucky grins, and Steve can feel his eyes widen. “‘Course, he stayed there a little longer than I did getting that fancy medical degree. Where’d you go?”

“Not Yale,” Steve laughs, breaking eye contact and staring at his shoes. He knows it’s silly, but he’s always been a little intimidated by Ivy League grads. Problematic, since a shitload of his colleagues got their medical degrees from Yale, Harvard or Princeton.

“Steve, come on,” Bucky laughs. “Half the kids at those schools get in because they’re a legacy. Hell, _I_ was a legacy. I didn’t even want to go to Yale. But if you’re a Barnes, you go to Yale.”

Steve feels his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “Wait, Barnes? Like James Barnes on the hospital board?”

“One and the same,” Bucky grins, blushing. “Usually try not to mention that at these things. Makes the doctors nervous for some reason when they find out. Now, tell me where you got your education because I’m sure they’re great and they were lucky to have you.”

“Johns Hopkins,” Steve replies, and Bucky just grins.

“One of the best medical schools in the country,” the brunet nods, taking another sip of  his wine. “Well, then, _we’re_ lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Steve smirks, liking the way Bucky laughs, eyes sparkling with mirth. “High praise coming from an esteemed board member.”

“So, you excited to get snatched up by some middle aged divorcee at this auction?” Bucky inquires, lips still curled up in a smile. “Or maybe somebody looking to pawn their society daughter off on a doctor?”

Steve laughs nervously, blushing at the intensity in those gray eyes. “Well, it’s for a good cause.”

“It is,” Bucky’s voice is low and conspiratorial as he leans in to whisper in Steve’s ear. “But something tells me that’s not what you’re into. And I apologize if this is a little forward, but I would like _very_ much to learn more about what you’re into.”

Steve swallows down a groan, shivering at the feel of Bucky’s breath ghosting on the shell of his ear.

“Well,” Steve begins, and _Jesus_ , his voice is already breathy, needy. The guy’s not even _touching_ him, and he’s weak. “I’m certainly not going to balk if you’re the highest bidder. And I’m sure we could arrange something on our own if someone does outbid you.”

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky purrs, pulling away and brushing back a strand of Steve’s short, blond hair. “I have no intention on being outbid if _you’re_ the prize.”

And then Bucky’s backing off, a predatory grin on his face. Steve knows his jaw is practically on the floor when Bucky croons, “I look forward to our date, Dr. Rogers.” Then the brunet just winks and walks away, hips swaying enticingly.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve whispers, downing the rest of his bourbon in a single gulp and then heading to the bar for a refill.

He’s got a feeling he might need some liquid courage tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Requests and prompts can be submitted via [tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com) or here in the comments :)


	21. I Hope You're Ready for Some Competition, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, I’ve been doin’ this every year since I was a kid,” James grouses. “And I’m good at it. And I don’t want some rinky-dink excuse for a haunted house across the street to spoil the evening.”
> 
> “You are some kinda cocky, aren’t you, Barnes?” Steve laughs, the smile on his face incredulous. “I’m doin’ the haunted house whether you like it or not. Now good night.”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Bucky is less-than-thrilled that his neighbor is encroaching on one of his favorite Halloween traditions.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, meet-uglies are tricky for this kind of thing because resolving whatever issue two people have with each other takes time. With that in mind, I decided to split this one into two parts, and not just because I'm not sure I'll have time to write the second half of this story today :)
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Bucky nearly growls when he sees the flier stapled to one of the streetlights in his neighborhood. The piece of paper is encouraging neighbors and friends to come out for a night of spooky fun at a backyard haunted house at 192 Pike Lane.

Bucky’s not livid at the thought of a haunted house. No, Bucky _loves_ Halloween, so much so that _he_ does his own backyard haunted house each year, much to the delight (and sometimes chagrin) of his neighbors.

According to this flier, he’s going to have some competition from the guy who moved in across the street. It’s nothing like his thrown-together Word documents with event details and clip art. No, this looks like it’s been done by a professional.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky grumbles, resolving to stop in and have a chat with his new neighbor just as soon as he’s finished running a few errands.

 

* * *

 

The handsome man standing on his doorstep looks familiar, Steve thinks. He’s only been on Pike Lane for a couple weeks, so it takes him a moment to place his neighbor. James Barnes, Steve thinks, smiling as he heads up his walkway with a couple of plastic grocery bags in hand. His friend Nat’s on good terms with the guy; they went to high school together if he’s remembering right.

Barnes is just turning from Steve’s front door with a disgruntled look when he spots Steve coming up to the door. Steve’s more than a little surprised when the man’s steely eyes narrow into a glare, but he manages to keep a serene smile on his face.

“Hey, James,” Steve smiles, breezing past his neighbor to his front door. “You look like maybe you need to talk to me?”

“God damn right,” the brunet grouses, arms folded across his chest.

“Well, why don’t you come inside?” Steve replies, trying desperately to remain pleasant in the face of this guy’s shit attitude. “Kinda cold out here.”  
  
“I’m fine, thanks,” James snaps, and if that’s the way his neighbor wants to play this, that’s fine. Steve can be grumpy too.

“Well, I need to get dinner started,” Steve bites out, the smile gone from his face, as he holds up his bags. “Company comin’. So why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”

“The problem is that _I_ host a backyard haunted house every year-” James replies, clearly agitated. “And there’s not room for another on this block as far as I’m concerned.”

“Gee, I didn’t realize you made the rules about who can and cannot turn their backyard into a haunted house,” Steve snarks, quirking a brow. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’ve already got all my decorations prepped and ready to go.”

“Rogers,” the brunet sighs, running a hand through his hair, which looks incredibly soft. “That’s your name right?”

“Steve Rogers, yes,” Steve replies, tone cool and clipped.

“Look, I’ve been doin’ this every year since I was a kid,” James grouses. “And I’m good at it. And I don’t want some rinky-dink excuse for a haunted house across the street to spoil the evening.”

“You are some kinda cocky, aren’t you, Barnes?” Steve laughs, the smile on his face incredulous. “I’m doin’ the haunted house whether you like it or not. Now good night.”

James’s stormy gray eyes narrow, mouth curling into an angry sneer, and god damn it, _how_ is he still so attractive? “Fine. If that’s the way you want it, then I hope you’re ready for some competition, Rogers.”

“Bring it on, neighbor,” Steve calls as James whirls and stalks back across the street. Steve shakes his head as he turns and unlocks his front door,

“What a fuckin’ jerk,” Steve mumbles to himself as he heads into the kitchen with his bags. The blond waits for his phone to hook up to his wireless speaker, and then he’s blasting Motown songs, chopping vegetables and doing his best to forget the unpleasant exchange with James Barnes.

And also, how sexy his neighbor looks when he’s angry.

 

* * *

 

“I _told_ you, man,” Sam chuckles, glancing over at his girlfriend Maria, who smiles and nods. “Barnes is a prickly one. I knew the haunted house would piss him off”

“He’s really not so bad,” Natasha pipes up, sipping at her wine with a smirk. “Once you get to know him, anyway. And he wasn’t always as grumpy as he is now. He was actually really popular when we were in high school, really friendly, before-”

Natasha pauses as Steve stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish. Sam and Maria shift uncomfortably in their chairs. They don’t know Bucky as well as Natasha does, since they’d both gone to a private school in Hartford while Natasha and Bucky had attended public, but their Connecticut suburb is close-knit, and while not even Natasha was ever super close with Bucky  or his sister, everybody’s aware of what most people refer to as the Barnes kids’ “hard time.” Everybody except transplants like Steve, whom the three of them had met while they were all attending NYU.

“Well, it’s not really my place to talk about it,” Natasha finishes lamely, ignoring the impatient groan from her friend. “But, really, Bucky’s a good guy. He just. He’s not great at expressing himself sometimes.”

“Oh, he had no trouble expressing himself today,” Steve chuckles. “But I’ll try to keep an open mind. I know you two are on friendly terms, and I’d hate to screw that up.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s busy working on the mold for a disembodied hand a few days after the confrontation with Steve when he hears his sister’s voice over the intercom in the work room.

“Yo, Buck,” Becca’s practically shouting, which is unnecessary since he’d informed her he wouldn’t be working with any of the loud machinery this morning. “Sam’s here to talk to you about the Halloween party, brought a graphic designer with’m.”

Bucky sighs, abandoning the silicone limb and making his way to the intercom, pressing down on the button that allows him to answer. “Go ahead and bring ‘em in. And please refrain from shoutin’ next time you need me, all right?”

“Copy that, big brother,” Becca increases her volume, and Bucky groans, wondering for the millionth time if it might be better for his kid sister to just get a normal job instead of staying on here as his receptionist and accountant. “Over and out.”

Becca pushes through the wide double doors that separate their lobby from Bucky’s studio a moment later, Sam Wilson in tow. Bucky grins at the other man, waving. Sam - one of Natasha Romanoff’s friends from college who Bucky thinks is actually pretty great even if he did go to that stuffy private high school in the city - is an event planner at one of the best firms in Hartford, and every year he helps Bucky with his business’s Halloween party.

Considering Bucky runs his own makeup and effects company, he can actually write this shindig off as a business expense. It’s a really great way to touch base with past clients and drum up business within the area for his yearly pop-up Halloween shop which operates out of large tents behind his studio space every weekend from the end of August until the second week in November.

Bucky’s grin falters when his troublesome neighbor slips through the doors a moment later, bright blue eyes wide and curious as he scans Bucky’s studio.

“Holy _shit,_ ” the tall, well-muscled blond exclaims, taking everything in, and Bucky can’t quite help smiling at that. He’s proud of what he does, so it’s always nice to see that reaction when someone enters his work space. “This is-”

Steve’s eyes widen and his jaw drops when his eyes finally land on Bucky, and the brunet chuckles.

“Well, hey neighbor,” Bucky smirks. “Had no idea you did graphic design. Explains those fancy fliers you got up for your amateur fright fest.”

Bucky can see the exact moment that Steve realizes that trying to compete with his neighbor’s haunted house is going to be a losing battle, and he’s got to admit, it’s pretty damn satisfying.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Steve begins as he and Bucky sit at one of the brunet’s work tables, poring over sample invitations. Sam’s long gone, off to order tables and arrange the menu with the caterer. “You basically do Halloween for a living?”

“Basically,” Bucky chuckles, comparing an invite that looks like a blood-stained piece of parchment and another that’s a simple black background with minimalist vampire fangs at the top. Steve had explained that they could do a little design for a variety of creatures that go bump in the night. And while Bucky’s a big fan of gore, he thinks the simpler invitations will probably go over better with his clientele. After all, they’re not all looking for buckets of blood and monsters when they call up companies that specialize in effects.

“I think I wanna go with the black one,” Bucky states, handing the invites back to Steve. The blond smiles, and _shit_ , Bucky had not noticed in his angry haze the other day just how handsome this man is. That, coupled with the fact that he’s going to be working on this party, is really going to make Bucky’s plan to ignore him forever kind of difficult.

“Perfect,” Steve replies, gathering up his samples and placing them in a folder before shoving them into a messenger bag. “Just email me the info you want on ‘em and your attendee list. I’ll send you a sample as soon as I can, and then we’ll get ‘em out.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky replies, rising along with Steve and shaking his hand. “Thanks for comin’ out today, Steve. Especially since I wasn’t exactly neighborly to you the other day.”

Steve grins, shrugging. “Hey, we all get protective of our traditions. I just hope that you won’t attempt to sabotage me now that I’m working on your event.”

“I promise I’ll consider not sabotaging you,” Bucky smirks, liking the belly laugh he draws from his neighbor. “But really, I’m sorry. Truce?”

“Truce,” Steve replies, following Bucky out into the lobby. “Well, James, it’s been a pleasure. Don’t forget to email me that info, all right?”

“I won’t,” Bucky smiles, opening the door for the blond. “And you can call me Bucky, Steve. Most people do.”

“Well, then-” Steve nods, shaking Bucky’s hand once more- “I’ll see you around, Bucky.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, _he’s_ cute,” Becca grins as her brother closes the door and heaves a heavy sigh. Bucky looks over at her, a rueful grin on his face.

“You remember that neighbor I told you about, Beck?” Bucky chuckles. “The one I yelled at because he had the gall to do a haunted house for Halloween?”

“Oh, Buck, _no,”_ Becca wheezes, holding her stomach as she laughs. “Oh, that’s _him?”_

“That’s him,” Bucky sighs, smiling. “And you’re right; he is attractive. But I think I kind of already blew it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Becca grins, quirking a brow. “He was lookin’ at you like he thought you were pretty cute too.”

Bucky shrugs and does that thing where he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans when he’s nervous about something. Becca smiles when her brother looks back up and says, “You should try to get to know him better at least.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, then begins making his way back into the studio. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	22. I Hope You’re Ready for Some Competition, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look,” Bucky replies, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not sayin’ I want your haunted house to be as good as mine. Because I don’t. But, I will help you beef this up a bit. If you would like help.”
> 
>   **In which Bucky attempts to make amends and Steve is surprised.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2! I hope you guys enjoy this one! 
> 
> This is probably the only thing that'll get updated today; this week was insane and I have a wedding to attend today. I am hoping to post more tomorrow in the way of WIP updates, but it'll really depend on how exhausted I am. Thank you in advance for your patience and understanding :)

Steve manages to catch Bucky as he’s getting home from work that evening, waving him over. Bucky huffs out a laugh and strides across the street, trying not to get distracted by just how good the blond looks.

“Thanks for sending the guest list and addresses so quickly,” Steve grins, panting slightly, as Bucky reaches him. “And an extra thank you for inviting Sam and I. That wasn’t necessary, Buck.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head as he surveys his neighbor as subtly as possible. The tight t-shirt stretched across his wide chest and the compression tights he’s wearing highlight his muscular frame in a way that has Bucky practically salivating.

“I invite Sam to this party every year as a thank you for helping,” Bucky smiles, shrugging. “Felt wrong not to include you, you know?”

“Well, thanks just the same,” Steve chuckles, running a hand through sweat-damp hair.

“Although now I’m starting to reconsider,” Bucky teases. “You’re one of those people who _jogs.”_

Steve tips his head back and laughs, and _wow_ , that is a really lovely sound. “It’s a great cardio workout. It keeps you healthy, Buck.”

“Yeah, but at what _cost,_ Rogers?” Bucky exclaims, and Steve’s bent over double, wheezing, and yeah, Bucky likes this a lot better than Steve’s pretty blue eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Hey, while you’re over this way-” Steve grins once he’s managed to regain control of himself- “You wanna see what I’ve done so far? For the haunted house, I mean?”

“Giving the competition a peek ahead of time,” Bucky tuts with a smirk. “You fool. That is an amateur mistake if ever there was one.”

“I think we both know I’m not competition, Buck,” Steve smiles, crossing his arms over his chest, and Bucky’s not sure if the flush on the other man’s face is from exertion or bashfulness.

“Still nice to hear you say it out loud,” Bucky quips, brushing a loose tendril of his dark hair back behind his ear. “But sure, I’d love to see it.”

Steve chuckles, grabbing Bucky’s hand and tugging him toward the backyard. Bucky wonders if he’s the only one who feels a jolt when their skin makes contact.

 

* * *

 

Steve is sort of regretting asking the handsome brunet to come back and check out what he’s got up so far. Bucky’s sharp, steely eyes appraise Steve’s set-up. Fake skeletons hanging from trees. Novelty tombstones. One of those bowls where a hand snaps downward whenever you reach for candy.

“This is-” Bucky begins, but Steve sighs and interrupts.

“Terrible, right?” Steve asks, wringing his hands together. Bucky’s going to have a goddamn professional-level attraction across the street and he’s going to look like an _idiot_.

“No,” Bucky answers a little too quickly, wincing when he realizes he sounds disingenuous. “No, Steve, really, it’s not terrible. It’s a solid effort for someone who’s probably never done their own little haunted house before. As long as you’re not planning on the old bowl full of cold spaghetti or peeled grapes-”

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other, snorting, and Bucky groans, “Oh, Steve, _no._ ”

“Yes,” Steve chuckles, throwing his hands up into the air. “God, you were right, this is going to be rinky-dink.”

“Look,” Bucky replies, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not sayin’ I want your haunted house to be as good as mine. Because I don’t. But, I will help you beef this up a bit. If you would like help.”

 

* * *

 

Steve’s bright eyes begin to widen comically the second the offer of assistance is out of Bucky’s mouth, which makes it very, _very_ hard for the brunet not to laugh. Steve’s mouth is opening and closing as though he’s trying to speak, but he doesn’t seem to be able to form words.

“Steve?” Bucky chuckles, poking at the blond’s chest, and _Christ_ , but he is firm. Bucky briefly wonders what it would be like to brace himself on that chest as he bounces on Steve’s-

“Are you _serious?”_ Steve just about squeaks, which is a funny sound for such a big guy to make. Bucky might laugh if he weren’t trying desperately to erase the image of riding Steve from his mind’s eye. “Couple days ago you’re yellin’ at me over this and now you wanna _help?”_

Bucky shrugs, a small smile on his face. “You’re helpin’ with my party.”

“I’m _paid_ to help with that.” Steve’s tone is still incredulous, but there’s a slow grin spreading across his handsome features.

“Well, yeah, but-” Bucky fumbles for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase this. “You coulda asked to be taken off the assignment. Hell, I wouldn’t have blamed you given the way I treated you. Now you gonna keep browbeatin’ me over the fact that I was a jerk or are you gonna accept my help, punk?”

Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I could probably use all the help I can get.”

 

* * *

 

“So, how’d you get into all this?” Steve asks as they root around in Bucky’s garage. The brunet says he’s got some older decorations that Steve can borrow. “Effects and haunted houses and all that?”

“My mom actually,” Bucky replies, grunting and wiping a hand across his brow as he sets down a heavy plastic container. He begins rifling through it as he continues, “My mom loved Halloween. I used to help her with the haunted house she did every year.”

“She doesn’t do them anymore?” Steve asks, looking up from the box he’s been digging through.

“No, she-” Bucky exhales, steely eyes meeting Steve’s briefly before he glances downward. “She died when I was a senior in high school.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve breathes, his conversation with Natasha the day he and Bucky had gotten into it flashing through his head. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Look, don’t worry about it; it was a long time ago. I just miss her, you know? And the haunted house is a good way to remember her.”

“It musta been hard on you and your sister,” Steve replies, voice low. “Your dad too.”

“Oh, no-” Bucky replies. “I mean, it was hard on Becca and me, but dad bailed on us when Beck was born.”

“So, who-” Steve stammers as those intense, inscrutable eyes meet his own. “Who took care of you guys?”

“I did,” Bucky shrugs. “I was nineteen at the time. Put college on hold. Mom had a friend who did makeup for movies and stuff, and she took me on as kind of an apprentice. I got lucky - people like filming horror movies up here because New England has that sort of old creepy vibe, so I got plenty of experience and I could still be around for Becca. When she graduated from high school, I moved out to Los Angeles for a while. Established myself, then came back here and started my own business to be closer to her.”

“So, that’s why you were so upset about me doin’ the haunted house?” Steve ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair. When he looks up, Bucky is smiling at him.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Bucky replies. “Shouldn’t have gotten that way, though. Mom woulda liked having more neighbors who were as into Halloween as she was.”

The grin on Bucky’s face, the softness in those wide, gray eyes, has something in Steve’s chest tightening and he can’t quite breathe as he nods.

“C’mon,” Bucky chuckles, diving back into the container in front of him. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re gonna fix your haunted house.”

 

* * *

 

Between the party planning and the haunted house, Bucky begins to see quite a bit of Steve Rogers over the next couple of weeks.

Not that he minds. At _all._

Because not only is Steve devastatingly attractive, he’s also smart and funny and kind. And once he’s got the right tools and decorations, he’s pretty goddamn good at putting together a haunted house.

Steve, Bucky learns, is an only child from Brooklyn. His mother, Sarah, had raised Steve on her own after his father had died, supporting the two of them with long shifts as a nurse at the local hospital. Steve spent a lot of time in that hospital, he informs Bucky.

“I used to have a lot of health problems,” Steve mentions casually, as though the slew of issues he lists after that statement - severe asthma, anemia, nasty bouts of pneumonia, scoliosis, arrhythmia, and on and on and on - are not such a big deal.

“How are you so goddamn big, Rogers?” Bucky asks, quirking a brow as Steve laughs. “Seriously, it’s a miracle you’re even _alive_ let alone as stacked as you are.”

“Drug trials are an incredible thing when the drugs actually work,” is all Steve says, shrugging. “And I had a lot of good doctors.”

Of course, the fact that Steve managed to make it through all of that, to come out the other side not only alive, but optimistic and caring and so wonderfully _good_ , just makes Bucky want him all the more.

And there are _moments_ . Like when Steve trips over a zombie arm Bucky had dropped while trying to carry too many things and fell forward into Bucky’s arms. And then those blue eyes had been staring into his, those plush lips so, _so_ close to his own, and Bucky had very nearly leaned in-

And then Steve had stumbled back, blushing and apologizing profusely for his clumsiness.

Or the day when Bucky couldn’t quite reach a hook and Steve had come up behind him, his hand burning into the small of Bucky’s back as he’d plucked the fake bat from Bucky’s hand and hung it for him, the heat of his body against Bucky so reassuring.

It’s been a long time since Bucky’s been interested in more than friendship with somebody, but _god_ , he wants Steve Rogers in the worst way.

They’re adding a few finishing touches to Steve’s haunted house the Friday before Bucky’s party when a familiar female voice calls out, “Steve, you back there? We’ve been ringing the doorbell for, like, ten minutes!”

“Shit,” Steve dashes to the gate, swinging it wide. Natasha is standing there, accompanied by Sam and his girlfriend Maria. They smile knowingly once they catch a glimpse of Bucky hanging up fake spiderwebs, and it’s tough to tell in the fading light, but it looks like Steve is _blushing_.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Steve says, motioning them into the backyard. “I completely lost track of time.”

“Barnes is quite a distraction for you, isn’t he?” Sam chuckles, and Bucky doesn’t miss the icy glare Steve directs at his friend.

“You guys have plans,” Bucky grins as he finishes up and steps back from his handiwork. “I should head out and let you get to your evening.”

“Barnes, it’s just ordering pizza and watching scary movies,” Natasha smirks, hands on her hips. “Which, if I recall, is right up your alley. Steve, why don’t you ask Bucky to join us.”

Steve is _definitely_ blushing, and isn’t that an interesting development? The blond swallows, eyes darting toward Bucky as he exhales a laugh.

“Of course,” Steve manages. “You should stay. I mean, if you want to. If you’re busy or-”

“Steve, it sounds like fun,” Bucky replies, liking the way Steve smiles shyly. “I’d love to stay. As long as none of you mind?”

“The more the merrier,” Maria replies, shooting a conspiratorial wink at her boyfriend. “Let’s get inside and order that pizza; I am _starving_.”

The four of them are great, Bucky thinks, as they chat and laugh and go out of their way to make him feel comfortable and welcomed. And as Steve Rogers smiles at him from across the table, a hint of what Bucky thinks might be longing in those beautiful blue eyes, Bucky resolves to try harder from now on to make time for people.

_Especially_ Steve.

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t have to stay to help clean up, you know,” Steve grins over the the brunet who’s currently drying off a plate. Bucky just smiles and shrugs. It’s become a familiar gesture to Steve; it’s Bucky’s way of saying without words that he’s happy to help and that it’s no big deal. Steve chuckles and goes back to scrubbing cheese from his dishes.

“So, I was wondering-” Bucky begins, and the hesitation in the other man’s voice makes Steve look up. Bucky is staring at the ground, hands wringing the towel he’s holding. “Are you, um. Bringing a date? To the party?”

Steve blinks, mouth forming a small ‘O’ of surprise. The way Bucky’s blushing, refusing to make eye contact, has Steve’s heart beating a mile a minute.

“Just Natasha,” Steve manages, thankful that his voice doesn’t sound too shaky. “And, I mean, she has her own ticket and all, so really I’m just there to fend off the undesirables.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies, eyes still glued to his work boots. “Cool. Because I was kind of hoping we could hang out a bit. At the party. And that you’d maybe save a dance for me?”

Steve sets the plate he’s working on in the sink, snatching the dish towel from Bucky’s hands and drying his own before asking, “A dance?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, stormy eyes finally meeting Steve’s own. “Look, I know you and I got off to a really rocky start, and I take full blame for that. But hangin’ out with you has been great, Steve. You’re a good guy, a _really_ good guy, and the thing is-”

“What?’ Steve questions softly, reaching out to place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The brunet starts at the contact, but Steve doesn’t move, just waits patiently for a response.

“The thing is, I think I like you,” Bucky replies. “That, I’m interested in you. Romantically. And it seems like maybe you might be interested in me too.”

Steve cannot speak. His vocal cords have completely frozen, and the words, _hell yes I’ll save a dance for you_ simply will not come. Bucky must interpret his silence as a rejection because he exhales, backing away.

“You know what? I should just go; I read the situation wrong. I’ll see you around, Steve.”

The brunet begins walking toward Steve’s kitchen door, and something inside Steve snaps. He strides forward, grabbing Bucky’s wrist and pulling him back. Steve registers the shock in those steely eyes of Bucky’s before capturing the other man’s lips in a kiss, smiling at the muffled sound of surprise that leaves Bucky.

And then Bucky’s arms are around his neck, those plush lips moving against his own and _Jesus_ , this man is an _incredible_ kisser. Steve melts, letting Bucky push him up against a counter, parting his lips for Bucky’s skilled tongue. Bucky’s mouth is warm and soft, his lips gentle against Steve’s, and he doesn’t think he’s ever had a first kiss quite like this one.

They’re both breathless as Bucky pulls back, and the smile on his face sets Steve’s pulse racing.

“So, that’s a yes on the dance, then?” Bucky chuckles, cupping Steve’s face gently.

Steve giggles, pulling Bucky closer. “You are some kind of cocky, aren’t you, Barnes?”

Steve relishes the brunet’s laugh, the way those gray eyes flash with recollection before replying, “Yes, Buck. That’s a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	23. Forget The Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, _mom,”_ Steve grumbles. “God, you’re such a worry wart.”
> 
> “With good reason,” Bucky huffs, standing and moving toward their kitchen. “I’m making you tea, and you’re drinking it whether you like it or not. You want green or black?”
> 
> “Buck,” Steve protests, and Bucky can hear him shifting on the couch. 
> 
> “Rogers, so help me god, if you move from that sofa, I will drag you back to it and duct tape you down,” Bucky calls over his shoulder. “Now, green or black?”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve's feeling a little under the weather and his best friend is a mother hen.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for posting this update on the late side. The wedding was lovely, but I am _exhausted_. I suppose that's what too many whiskey sodas gets you. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this little bit of fluff! And a very happy birthday to flyingmax!! If you're reading this, I promise I'm working on your birthday fic (the bodyguard scenario), it's just going to be a bit belated as things around here have been a bit nuts lately.

“Steve?” Bucky calls out once he’s shut the door, nose twitching as he inhales.

Bucky makes his way toward the living room of the apartment they share, shucking the light coat the cooler-than-usual October day had necessitated, continuing, “Steve, it smells like Lysol and Chloraseptic spray in here, are you sick? Because if you are, you had better be bundled up under a shitload of blankets, pal. I mean it!”

“I know you mean it, you jerk,” Steve croaks out as Bucky rounds the corner from their entryway. Bucky frowns as Steve winces; his throat must be really bad because Steve doesn’t like showing it when he’s in pain. The short, slender blond is buried under three or four blankets, and Bucky would wager that he’s got on his heaviest sweatpants and sweatshirt to boot.

And yet, Steve’s still shivering, teeth clacking as his small frame trembles.

“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky breathes out, dropping his backpack. “Why didn’t you send me a text or somethin’? I woulda come back to the apartment between classes.”

“Didn’t want you worryin’,” Steve replies, voice like broken glass and Bucky should not be enjoying the low, raspy quality of it.

Sure, Bucky’s had a big, dumb crush on the slight blond since he’d met Steve their freshman year. And yes, that crush has deepened into very strong feelings for the guy who’s turned out to be the best friend Bucky ever could have asked for.

But now is not the time or the place to dwell on how long he’s been harboring said feelings. Now is the time to make Steve a cup of tea or a bowl of soup. Maybe both.

“Have you eaten anything?” Bucky asks, sitting down next to Steve, brushing his blond hair back and placing a hand on his friend’s forehead. Steve’s so warm, his skin hot to the touch, his face flushed and his eyes glassy.

“Yes, _mom,"_ Steve grumbles. “God, you’re such a worry wart.”

“With good reason,” Bucky huffs, standing and moving toward their kitchen. “I’m making you tea, and you’re drinking it whether you like it or not. You want green or black?”

“Buck,” Steve protests, and Bucky can hear him shifting on the couch.

“Rogers, so help me god, if you move from that sofa, I will drag you back to it and duct tape you down,” Bucky calls over his shoulder. “Now, green or black?”

“Green,” Steve replies, and Bucky smiles because he _knows_ Steve is pouting and the mental image is adorable. “With honey and lemon.”

“You got it, punk.”

 

* * *

 

Steve had assumed that the chills he’d felt on his way to class this morning were just a result of the cold snap they were dealing with. Of course, he figured about halfway through the lecture that the chills and the aches rolling through his small body were the results of a good old-fashioned bout of the flu.

He’d made it through the rest of the lecture somehow, and had managed to stumble home despite the fact that he felt like he might faint at any moment. And then he’d donned his warmest clothes and grabbed just about every blanket in the place - excluding the one on Bucky’s bed - and set up camp on the couch.

Of course, Bucky’s bustling in and making tea like a goddamn mother hen the second he sees Steve curled under the blankets. Steve grumbles and grouses and acts like he thinks it’s ridiculous, just like he always does.

In reality, Steve mentally rejoices that he’s got such an incredible friend who’s so willing to look out for him. And, yeah, maybe a little bit over the fact that Bucky will insist on Steve curling up against him for added warmth.

Steve’s no fool. Sure, he’d been gone on Bucky from just about the moment the two of them met three years ago, but he knows the score. Bucky is tall and handsome and charming; he could score any guy or girl he wants.

And while Steve knows Bucky loves him dearly, the blond’s pretty goddamn sure it won’t ever be in the way he so desperately wishes for.

Bucky reenters the living room with a steaming mug in his hands, and Steve takes it. He sips carefully, humming as the warm liquid soothes his raw, aching throat.

“You got enough supplies?” Bucky asks, settling in next to Steve and throwing an arm around Steve’s bony shoulders, pulling him close. Steve curls into his side, reveling in the nearness. “Because if you’re low on tissues or cough drops or anythin’, lemme know. I don’t mind runnin’ out later.”

“I’m good, Bucky,” Steve replies, taking another sip of his tea and smiling as the brunet’s arm tightens around him. “I’ll letcha know if I need anythin’ else.”

“You better, punk,” Bucky whispers, and Steve nearly drops his mug as he feels Bucky’s lips brush against his temple. The brunet jerks back, looking slightly panicked.

“Sorry,” Bucky sounds a little breathless, and god, Steve wonders what Bucky would do if he just leaned up and kissed him right now. “Ma always said it’s easier to tell if someone has a temperature with your lips than your hands. Just wanted to make sure the fever’s not too bad.”

“Oh,” Steve nods, breaking eye contact with his friend, turning his attention back to _Jeopardy_. “Right. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replies, sounding relieved, and Steve’s heart aches because all he wants is to tell Bucky that he’s more than on board with Bucky kissing him. That, as far as Steve’s concerned, Bucky can kiss him wherever he likes.

“I should probably eat again soon,” is what Steve says instead. “Maybe some soup after _Wheel of Fortune?”_

“Anything you want, punk,” Bucky chuckles.

 _Anything I want_ , Steve thinks, sipping his tea in silence. _God, if only I could tell you what I want._

 

* * *

 

Bucky must drift off later that night to the slow, even sound of Steve’s breathing because he wakes with a crick in his neck as weak morning sunlight streams through their blinds, Steve’s head in his lap. Bucky blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he shifts, careful not to wake Steve as he moves the blond’s head and then rises to use the bathroom.

When he’s done, he sees Steve standing outside the door, waiting.

“Mornin’ sleepy,” Bucky smiles. “Feelin’ better?”

“Gimme a sec before you start the mother hen routine, all right?” Steve chuckles, closing the door behind him. Bucky laughs, shuffling back to the couch, grinning as Steve stumbles back into their living room a few minutes later.

“I think the fever broke,” Steve informs him as he flops down. “Throat’s a little scratchy but it doesn’t hurt like it did yesterday. Just tired and achy.”

“You do look better today; your color's almost back to normal,” Bucky nods, placing his hand on Steve’s forehead. The blond’s still a touch warm, but he’s much cooler than yesterday. His hair’s still sweat-damp, so the fever must have broken sometime in the night.

“You might have a touch of temperature, but yeah, I think you’re better today,” Bucky grins, surprised by the frown on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong, Steve?”

“You should make sure,” Steve replies, a determined look in his bright blue eyes. “Like you said, lips are more reliable than hands.”

Bucky can feel his eyes widening in surprise as Steve stares up at him resolutely, the challenge in his eyes urging Bucky closer, and _Jesus_ , is the blond actually asking Bucky to kiss his forehead?

“Steve?” Bucky whispers, tilting his head and observing for a moment.

“Please, Buck,” Steve replies, voice soft and pleading. “Please.”

Bucky leans forward, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead, the quiet gasp that leaves his friend’s mouth spurring him onward. Bucky kisses down the side of Steve’s face, lingering along the sharp edge of his jaw, tongue darting out to taste Steve’s skin.

“Bucky,” Steve whines as Bucky nips as the flesh. “God, _please_.”

“Tell me what you want, Steve,” Bucky rasps, smiling at the way Steve shivers because he knows it’s not a fever this time. “I need to hear it, Steve. I need you to say it, punk.”

“Quit yammerin’ and kiss me already,” Steve groans, winding a hand in Bucky’s dark hair, tugging him up so that their eyes meet. And then Bucky’s surging forward, claiming Steve’s lips with his own, shuddering at the broken moan that leaves his friend’s mouth.

Steve tastes like gross cherry cough drops and throat spray, but Bucky couldn’t give a shit as his tongue invades the blond’s mouth, exploring the way he’s been fantasizing about doing for years now. Steve’s fingers are still twined in his hair, and Bucky can’t help the low growl that leaves his throat when Steve tugs.

Bucky breaks the kiss, looking down into dazed blue eyes and smiling. Steve grins in return, his face lighting up, and _Christ_ , but he is beautiful.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Steve whispers, cupping Bucky’s face in his hands. Bucky laughs, grabbing Steve’s hands and squeezing gently.

“Shoulda said somethin’, Rogers,” Bucky chuckles. “I’d have been happy to oblige. Now, you’re still not a hundred percent, so I’m gonna go ahead and make you a cup of tea. Green or black?”

“Forget the tea,” Steve replies, an impish glint in his eyes as he removes his hands from Bucky’s and sets them on his hips.

“Steve,” Bucky gives him a stern look, but as he tries to rise, Steve scrambles into his lap, long fingers digging into Bucky’s shoulders.

“I said,” Steve grins wickedly as he grinds down against Bucky, teasing a ragged gasp from the brunet as he leans forward. “Forget. The tea.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, but he lets Steve close the gap between their lips.

The tea can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	24. Opportune Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stevie, come on,” Bucky whines, bumping his hip into Steve’s and breaking his train of thought. “You know how much I hate it when you’re mad at me. Can’t even enjoy our little party when I know you’re out here fumin’. I said I was sorry. And that I’d replace the suit.”
> 
> “I know you did,” Steve huffs. “And I forgive you. I guess.”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which a prank goes awry and certain things come to light.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was grumpy and tired today, so you get some grumpy, exasperated Steve. And some fluff too :)

“You’re not still mad at me are you?”

Steve whirls, glaring at his best friend. Bucky’s wearing a hangdog look as he sidles up beside Steve on the small balcony of the apartment they share with their friend Sam. His stormy eyes, usually sparkling with laughter, are wide and pleading.

“Yes,” Steve bites out, taking a pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. Bucky’s his best friend in the world, but some days, god. Some days Steve’d like to wring his neck.

Of course, Steve’s gone and fallen in love with said best friend over the last couple of years, so wringing his neck would probably cause Steve more long-term pain than Bucky.

“Stevie, come on,” Bucky whines, bumping his hip into Steve’s and breaking his train of thought. “You know how much I hate it when you’re mad at me. Can’t even enjoy our little party when I know you’re out here fumin’. I said I was sorry. And that I’d replace the suit.”

“I know you did,” Steve huffs. “And I forgive you. I guess.”

Bucky pouts, but Steve just narrows his eyes as he remembers walking into their apartment after a job interview. He’d been hit with water from above and then tripped over a string, which had of course set off a fan positioned to blow flour directly at the poor soul in the doorway.

“Happy Halloween, Wilson, you’re a fuckin’ ghost n-” Bucky had cackled, stopping abruptly when he’d seen Steve in the doorway, arms folded across his scrawny chest, completely drenched, his best suit covered in flour. “Oh, shit, _Steve.”_

Steve had stalked from the room, ignoring Bucky’s increasingly desperate apologies as he’d slammed the bathroom door shut. Once he’d showered and changed, he’d proceeded to give Bucky the silent treatment until the brunet had sighed and wandered off to prepare for company.

“But this stupid prank war that you and Sam have going ends _now_ ,” Steve pokes a finger into Bucky’s  side, grinning as the brunet yelps.

“Of course it ends now,” Bucky nods, a small smile on his face. “Admit it, though, that was a good prank.  Especially with Halloween so close. You’d’ve laughed if I showed you a picture of ghostly Sam all covered in flour, Stevie, _admit it._ ”

“You are impossible, you know that?” Steve chuckles,  pushing away from the balcony and heading back inside to grab another beer, Bucky hot on his heels.

 

* * *

 

Bucky mingles for a while, giving Steve some space to cool down further. He’s known the blond since the two of them met the first day of kindergarten, and Steve Rogers is the same now as he’s always been, a tiny ball of rage, quick to anger and slow to forgive.

Except, of course, where Bucky is concerned. For some reason, Steve can’t stay mad at Bucky.  Which works out incredibly well for the brunet, considering it generally feels like the world’s falling apart at the seams when Steve’s angry with him.

Bucky figures this has something to do with the fact that he’s hopelessly in love with the fiery little blond. And as much as he’s wanted to make a move over the years, the timing’s always been shit.

Steve hadn't come out as bi until their freshman year of college, and of course he'd come to Bucky first, but by then it was too late to make a move because Steve had met Peggy.

Peggy was a pretty British exchange student Steve had met in one of his classes and they’d dated nearly two years. Bucky liked Peggy a lot, liked how happy she made Steve. But god, the relief he’d felt when they’d ended things and she’d returned home had made him feel like the biggest damn cad on the planet. Bucky’d had visions of having to stand by Steve’s side on his wedding day as his best man instead of the person Steve was marrying, and it had damn near killed him.

Bucky had been there for Steve, never pushing for anything more because he knew his friend needed time to heal.

Then there’d been a bad-tempered brunet right after they’d graduated - Brad or Brock or something like that. Steve, who usually had no time for anybody’s shit, had for lord knows what reason subjected himself to dating the guy for nearly a year despite a shitload of verbal abuse and probable infidelity. Bucky’d been thrilled when Steve had finally comes to his senses and broke it off.

Bucky’s dated casually over the years, both men and women, never letting things get too serious. Because Bucky’s known since he was sixteen that Steve was it for him, and it was just a matter of waiting for the opportune moment.

Bucky shakes himself from his thoughts meanders around the room, chatting with friends and telling Sam that Steve will probably toss their clothes out onto the sidewalk and change the locks if they continue their prank war.

“I told you we should avoid the common areas, Barnes,” Sam deadpans, a smile  turning up the corners of his lips. “If I’d pulled that shit, he’d’ve belted me. And yet here you stand without so much as a scratch.”

Bucky shrugs, smiling when he spots Steve across the room. The blond’s cheeks are bright with color from a couple of beers, gesticulating wildly as he talks with their friend Natasha. Bucky can’t help but chuckle as he makes his way toward them.

“You know I love him, Nat, but I coulda _killed_ him today,” Steve’s laughing as he recounts what Bucky assumes is this afternoon’s prank. Steve’s speech is a little too quick, the way it always is when the blond gets tipsy, but he’s not slurring or stumbling yet. As far as Bucky’s concerned, this is a good sign. Drunk Steve is even more likely to get himself into a scrap than Sober Steve, and that’s saying something.

“And he _knows_ I can’t stay mad at him,” Steve continues, shaking his head. “Never could. Probably knows I’m _in_ love with him too, so he knows he can get away with just about anythin’.”

Bucky can’t help bleating out an incredulous _“What?!”_ and then two sets of eyes are drilling into him. Natasha’s bright green eyes are wide, but there’s a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. The redhead knows damn well how Bucky feels about Steve, but she’d never let on that the blond reciprocated.

Steve’s eyes are wide too, but there’s no amusement in his expression, only panic. They dart back and forth, the eyes of a small animal caught in a trap, and it kills Bucky that Steve’s afraid of his reaction.

“Will you excuse us for a moment, Natasha?” Bucky smiles, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s slim wrist and tugging him back toward the bedrooms.

“Have fun boys!” Natasha calls out, laughing as she moves to converse with Sam and their friends Clint and Wanda.

Steve stumbles along after Bucky until they reach the kitchen door, and then refuses to budge.

“Buck, I didn’t mean-” Steve begins, but Bucky cuts him off.

“Stevie, relax,” Bucky soothes, twining their fingers together and squeezing. “I’m not upset. I just want to talk to you and I figured it’d be better to have the conversation in private, ok? You and me are all right, Steve. We’ll always be all right.”

Steve looks a little dazed by Bucky’s speech, but follows the brunet into his bedroom.

_Opportune moment, Barnes._

 

* * *

 

Steve’s genuinely shocked because when he pulls Bucky’s bedroom door closed, Bucky’s crowding him up against it, his strong, well-muscled body flush against Steve’s. Steve gasps as his back hits the solid, wooden frame, Bucky’s hands running up the length of his body. The blond can’t help the shiver that rolls through him.

“Are you really in love with me?” Bucky asks, his hands coming up to cup Steve’s face. Steve can’t breathe, can’t get his vocal cords to work, can’t make his lips move. Bucky’s eyes narrow, the brunet’s brow furrowing as Steve hesitates.

“Stevie, please answer me,” Bucky whispers, running his thumbs back and forth over Steve’s cheekbones. The blond sucks in a breath through his teeth, pushing back against Bucky’s chest.

“Bucky, stop,” Steve gasps, and then Bucky’s a couple feet away, wringing his hands together and staring at his shoes.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, voice hoarse and if Steve didn’t know better he’d think the brunet might be about to start crying. “You just. You said you were in love with me and I thought- I mean, I always _hoped_ you’d feel that way-”

“You what?!” Steve exclaims, taking a jerky step forward. Bucky’s eyes snap up to meet Steve’s and the blond freezes.

“I was hoping that’s how you felt about me,” Bucky answers, moving slowly toward Steve. “Because that’s how I feel about you, Steve. That’s how I’ve felt for a long time now.”

“Bucky, don’t,” Steve shakes his head as Bucky moves back into his personal space. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re in love me because there’s no way, I _know_ you, I would _know_ -”

“But you didn’t know, Steve,” Bucky nearly growls, and Steve can’t help the small whimper that escapes him as Bucky closes the gap between them, stormy eyes determined. “Goddamn it, I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen years old. So, don’t start with this you can’t possibly love me nonsense because I do. I always will.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispers as the brunet wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, pulling him close. Steve curls his fingers into Bucky’s sweater,  trying desperately to steady himself. “Bucky why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“You want reasons?” Bucky whispers, his lips so close to Steve’s now that Steve might burst into flame. “Because I didn’t know you were into guys too until you were already datin’ Peg. Because you loved her, and I wasn’t going to come between you if you were happy. Because movin’ in after she left woulda been wrong. Because of that awful guy you started datin’ after we graduated. Because the timing was always wrong.”

“It’s not wrong now,” Steve replies, the soft brush of Bucky’s mouth against his setting every nerve in his body aflame. “Kiss me?”

Steve means it to come out sure and strong, like a command, but it’s more of a plea. Bucky presses his lips against Steve’s anyway in a kiss so soft it’s barely even there. And then Steve’s reaching up, carding his fingers through Bucky’s longish brown hair and pushing his tongue past the other man’s lips.

Bucky groans, slamming Steve up against the door as Steve invades his mouth. It’s wet and warm and a little bit messy, but it’s the most perfect first kiss Steve’s ever had. Bucky moves his hands lower, gripping Steve’s ass and rolling his hips forward, and Steve can’t help moaning into the other man’s mouth.

Bucky breaks away first, eyes bright and dazed, a blinding smile lighting up his handsome features.

“Holy shit,” Bucky giggles. “That was even better than I imagined it would be.”

“Well, then stop imaginin’ it and fuckin’ kiss me, you dope,” Steve huffs, but he can’t help grinning as Bucky laughs.

“You as bossy in bed as you are everywhere else, Rogers?” Bucky teases, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Lock the door-” Steve rasps, liking the way Bucky’s eyes darken. “And maybe you’ll find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	25. XO Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “He was dressed as Batman. Anybody know who that coulda been?”
> 
> Sam, who’s been patiently listening to this exchange, chooses now to chime in with, “You know there are, like, ten different guys here dressed at Batman right?”
> 
> “Well, then-” Steve grins up at his friend. “Guess I’m gonna need some help findin’ the guy.”
> 
> **In which Steve meets a handsome stranger at a Halloween party.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, somebody requested Steve and Bucky meeting at a Halloween party with Bucky in a costume that obscures his face. They get separated before Steve can get a name and no one seems to know Bucky. I know it was in the comments on another one of these ficlets. I can't remember which chapter. I can't remember who it was. But I hope very much that you're still reading these little ficlets and that you like my take on your lovely suggestion :)

Steve’s trying to navigate his way through Sam’s crowded apartment, a couple of drinks in hand for himself, Clint and Natasha. The hallway from the kitchen to the living room is packed with bodies, young men and women talking and laughing and flirting and _Jesus_ , does Steve wish he were curled up at home with his sketchbook.

Steve loves Sam and the rest of his friends and he enjoys Halloween, but parties are always a bit much for him. Steve figures that in another hour or so he can slip away unnoticed; it’s usually fairly easy since he’s on the small side and pretty damn quiet.

Steve’s jostled when a tall, caped frame begins to backup, his back colliding with Steve’s left arm.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve exclaims, shrinking back in an attempt to avoid spilling, but some beer sloshes over the tops of the cups anyway. “Behind you, pal!”

The guy turns, looking down and affording Steve a glimpse of the prettiest blue-gray eyes he’s ever seen through the holes of his Batman mask. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, and the black costume hugs his impressive frame snugly.

“Oh, shit, man,” the stranger laughs, flashing Steve a toothy grin. “I’m real sorry, I didn’t see ya. Help you with those?”

“I’m all right, but thanks,” Steve replies, a soft smile on his face. The Caped Crusader shakes his head, reaching out and snatching up one of the cups.

“Least I can do after nearly runnin’ ya down,” Batman chuckles as Steve’s eyes narrow. “Lead the way.”

Steve sighs, resigned to the assistance and heads back into the living room. He manages to track down Clint and Natasha and hands off their beers. Before Steve can integrate himself into the conversation the two of them are having with Sam and Maria (Can _Judgment Day_ really be considered a proper sequel, considering James Cameron ignores a bunch of the rules he sets up in Terminator? A familiar argument.), there’s a hand coming to rest on the small of his back.

Steve turns, unable to help smiling at the grin on Batman’s face.

“I like your costume,” the guy gives him an appraising once-over, the smirk gracing those plush lips making Steve blush. Steve had gone with Marty McFly this year since it was low maintenance. “I love _Back to the Future_ , and you make an adorable Marty. That vest really brings out the blue in your eyes.”

Steve can feel his mouth moving, but he can’t seem to form words because guys with perfect smiles and broad builds _do not flirt with guys like him_ \- short guys who have knobby knees and elbows, who weigh all of a hundred pounds soaking wet, who are physically _less than_ , plain and simple.

Except, it sort of seems like this guy _is._

“Um-” Steve finally manages to stammer out. “Th-thank you. I like your costume too.”

“Thanks, pal,” Batman replies, bumping his hip against Steve’s. “Figured it’d be an easy one, you know? Plus, it lends me an air of mystery.”

“Important when you’re trying to eradicate crime from Gotham” Steve quips, smirking as the guy throws his head back and laughs. Steve eyes drift over the long line of the stranger’s throat, and he wonders what kind of noises Batman’s would make if Steve was kissing and nipping the smooth flesh.

“You’re funny, Marty,” Batman chuckles, and Steve shakes his head in an attempt to erase _that_ mental image. “I’d offer to grab you another drink if you didn’t already have one.”

“How chivalrous,” Steve finds himself flirting right back, voice laced with a teasing edge he barely recognizes. “The hero Gotham needs and all that.”

Batman smiles down at Steve like he’s the best thing on the planet, and Steve figures that maybe parties aren’t _so_ terrible after all.

 

* * *

 

Bucky cannot believe his luck.

I mean, it would have been better if he hadn’t nearly run over the cute little blond guy dressed as Marty McFly, but he seems receptive to Bucky’s flirting, so he’s thinking he can count this as a win. The blond’s got a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor, as well as a passion that burns in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. Bucky knows the minute he looks into those eyes that he’s supposed to know this guy. It just feels right.

Bucky wonders, as they chat about _Back to the Future,_ Marty’s job as an art teacher _,_ and whether or not Halloween is actually better than Christmas, how those eyes would look dark and half-lidded, those plush red lips parting on sighs and moans as Bucky kisses that porcelain skin, marks it up with his teeth and tongue. Wonders how that slender body would feel beneath his hands, writhing in pleasure.

Bucky wants _very_ much to find out.

Which is why he nearly groans aloud when his cell starts vibrating in his pocket.

“Hold that thought for one second, okay?” Bucky grins apologetically, checking the name flashing across the screen as the blond pauses in his rant about how Christmas is _clearly_ the superior holiday. _Of course_ , it’s Bucky’s sister. “Shit, I gotta answer this. I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Bucky darts from the room, answering and immediately getting an earful as Becca sobs into the phone. Boy trouble per usual; she’s got the worst taste in guys and it doesn’t help that she’s probably been drinking. Bucky promises he’ll be right there if she just texts him the address. He hangs up with a sigh, hoping that Marty McFly will understand and provide Bucky with his phone number so that they can continue this at a later date.

Except that when he walks back into the living room, the delectable little blond is gone.

“God damn it,” Bucky huffs, a rueful grin on his face as he heads for the door. He doesn’t have time to track the guy down, not with the way Becca sounded on the phone, but he’s got the strangest premonition that he’s going to see this guy again.

And he trusts it.

 

* * *

 

Despite Steve’s protests, his friends drag him into the kitchen to witness a keg stand, which everyone at this part is _way_ too old for. He stands, watching with a sullen expression on his face and his arms thrown across his thin chest.

“What is _that_ face for?” Natasha’s throaty laugh sounds to his right.

Steve glares at the smirking redhead, done up this year as Jessie of Pokemon’s Team Rocket, and replies, “I was waiting for somebody to come back, and I’m pretty damn sure he was _flirting_ with me, Nat. Pardon me for not wanting to move when he told me not to go anywhere while he took a phone call.”

“He took a phone call while he was talkin’ to you?” Clint - the James to Nat’s Jessie - asks as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Must not’ve been _that_ interested.”

“Clint,” Maria hisses, elbowing Natasha’s boyfriend and glaring, then turning a sympathetic gaze toward Steve. “I’m sure if he had to take it, then it was _very important.”_

“It looked like kind of an emergency,” Steve sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “He was dressed as Batman. Anybody know who that coulda been?”

Sam, who’s been patiently listening to this exchange, chooses now to chime in with, “You know there are, like, ten different guys here dressed at Batman right?”

“Well, then-” Steve grins up at his friend. “Guess I’m gonna need some help findin’ the guy.”

Sam exhales, shoulders slumping in his Luke Cage costume. “Yeah, all right. I’ll wingman for you.”

But even with Sam’s help, even when Natasha and Clint and Maria begin helping them and chatting to various Batmans throughout the apartment, Steve can’t find the right one. The guy must have been a friend of a friend of a friend because _no one_ seems to know who he is.

“Just my luck,” Steve sighs once the party’s ended and the five of them are slumped on Sam’s couch and chairs, surveying the damage the partygoers had wreaked on the apartment with tired eyes. “Cute guy flirts with me, makes this damn party better than bearable, and I lose him.”

“Hey,” Natasha shrugs, then curls up against Clint’s side. “At least you had fun, right? And who knows? Maybe you’ll run into him somewhere.”

“Fat chance,” Steve exhales, curling into a ball and letting himself drift into a half-doze, thoughts of the stranger’s beautiful blue eyes dancing in his head.

 

* * *

 

It’s been _weeks_ , but those stupid stormy eyes and that beaming smile still drift through Steve’s thoughts far too often, breaking his concentration at the most inopportune times.

And yet, he’s entirely unprepared when he sees said eyes and smile on a Wednesday afternoon behind a Starbucks counter.

“What can I getcha?” the brunet asks, and Steve _knows_ that this is his Batman, but he can’t seem to work up the courage to actually say anything other than “Tall Americano, please.”

The guy’s stunningly attractive in a way Steve hadn’t really anticipated. The mask had hidden the thick, dark hair on top of this guy’s head, which is pulled up into a ponytail under his green hat. His shirtsleeves are pushed up to reveal toned forearms and a smattering of tattoos. He’d been clean-shaven when Steve had seen him at the party, but the stubble gracing his chin _really_ works.

“Pal?” the guy’s grinning at him, eyes narrowed slightly in concern. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Steve manages to choke out. “Sorry, I guess I must really need caffeine. Did you ask me somethin’?”

“Just need a name for the cup,” Bucky replies, tapping it with his marker.

“Oh, right,” the blond blushes. “Steve.”

“It’ll be up in a few, Steve. That’ll be $3.45.”

Steve nods at the brunet, a wistful grin on his face as he pays and then moves toward the counter where another barista is handing off finished drinks. His Americano’s ready a couple minutes later, and Steve grabs it, a block of carefully printed text on the coffee collar catching his eye.

_Hey Marty, Glad to know your real name now. Sorry about the Halloween party - gimme a call so I can buy you a drink and explain? I’m off at 5:30._

There’s a phone number scrawled below and the note is signed _XO Bucky_.

Steve looks up, and the brunet is watching him with a sly smile. Bucky winks and waves at him, and Steve smiles, giving him a thumbs up like the giant nerd that he is before he walks out the door.

Steve doesn’t think he’s going to get a damn thing done the rest of the day, but he doesn’t care.

5:30 can’t come soon enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Gosh, can you believe we only have six more of these to go? It's wild how fast the month's gone by.


	26. I Can’t Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Forgot what a light sleeper you are,” Bucky whispers as he moves toward Steve’s bed, sitting down on the edge. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you. I just- I can’t sleep.”
> 
> “The movie?” Steve replies, a small smile on his lips. Bucky grins, and Steve knows the other man is blushing in the dark as he nods.
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Bucky is not a fan of certain kinds of horror movies and seeks comfort, and Steve gets more than he bargained for.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was not a great day, so super fluff to make myself feel better. Hope you guys like it :)

“Can’t we watch something else?” Bucky whines, gray-blue eyes wide and pleading as he looks around the room at his friends. Natasha and Clint are snickering at Bucky’s puppy dog face, Sam’s eyes are narrowed even as a smirk begins to curl at the edge of his lips and Wanda and Maria are shaking their heads.

“No,” Wanda states, voice firm and unyielding. “You know the rules. We each get to pick a different horror movie throughout October. No arguments.”

“Wanda, you _know_ I hate this one,” Bucky accuses, wrapping his long arms around his knees, which rest against his chest. “You picked it _on purpose_.”

“I did not-” Wanda huffs, rolling her eyes- “Pick it because you don’t like it. You don’t like anything that involves supernatural horror. If it were up to you, we’d watch slashers and torture porn all month.”

Bucky sighs, hugging his knees tighter, face lighting up with hope as Steve walks into the room with bowls of snacks.

“Stevie,” Bucky pleads, reaching out for a handful of popcorn. “You agree with me, don’t you? _Ringu_ is not fun.”

Steve will agree with Bucky; he always does. They’re best friends for a reason, after all.

“Neither is _Hostel_ and yet, you made all of us sit through that mess,” Steve replies with a rueful grin as he settles in beside Bucky on the couch. The brunet grumbles, shoving the handful of popcorn into his mouth and reaching for another.

“Traitor,” Bucky practically growls as he glares at his friend, but it’s hard to be mad when the slight blond throws his head back and laughs.The smile on his face has Bucky’s heart doing backflips.

The backflips are a recent, and somewhat concerning, development. The feelings themselves aren’t the problem. Bucky’s loved Steve since they were kids; he figures the romantic element is just a new facet of that love. Sure, it had come as something of a surprise to realize that he wanted his best friend, but now that he’s had some time to wrap his head around it, the two of them together makes perfect sense.

No, the problem is that Bucky has no idea if Steve feels the same. The short, slender blond is so good, so caring, so _wonderful_ , but when it comes to his own romantic feelings, Steve guards them jealously, keeping them bottled up in his small chest.

“I hope you’re happy, Wanda,” Bucky concedes, not at all gracefully as he turns his thoughts from Steve to the conversation at hand. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep for a week.”

“Barnes,” Sam finally chimes in sounding exasperated. “No one here has any sympathy for the fool who made us all watch _Cannibal Holocaust_ last year. Pipe down and let us watch the movie.”

Bucky sighs, settling back into the couch with a pout. Steve chuckles, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky grins at the blond, then rests his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve might not know how Bucky feels, but at least he knows how to make Bucky feel better.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s nearly asleep when he hears his bedroom door creak open later that night. The blond sits up in bed, pushing his blankets down and rubbing his eyes. When he blinks them open, Bucky’s familiar frame in his doorway. Other than the brunet’s soft breathing, the house just off campus that they share with Sam and Wanda is silent.

“Buck?” Steve questions, voice thick with sleep. “Whassa matter?”

“Forgot what a light sleeper you are,” Bucky whispers as he moves toward Steve’s bed, sitting down on the edge. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you. I just- I can’t sleep.”

“The movie?” Steve replies, a small smile on his lips. Bucky grins, and Steve knows the other man is blushing in the dark as he nods.

“Twenty-three and I can’t handle a movie about some dumb cursed videotape,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his dark hair. Steve watches, wishing he could tangle his fingers in the thick strands and pull Bucky close.

Steve brushes that thought aside as he smiles at his friend, soothing, “You know I get the same way about _Saw_ and _Hostel_ and stuff like that. We all have our limits, Buck. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“I suppose so,” Bucky replies, returning Steve’s smile. “I guess I’ll go watch some TV or somethin’; see if that’ll calm me down.

Before he thinks it through, Steve scoots over, pushing the blankets further down. “Get in.”

“Huh?” Bucky jerks back, a flabbergasted look on his handsome face.

“Get in,” Steve laughs, patting the area of the mattress beside him. “C’mon, like when we were little and one of us got spooked at a sleepover.”

“Steve, you don’t hafta-” Bucky protests, starting to rise. Steve grabs his wrist and tugs. Bucky offers some token resistance, but crawls into the bed without further argument. Steve’s heart races a mile a minute at his friend’s proximity. The heat of Bucky’s body beside his own is intoxicating, and all Steve wants to do is curl up against him, feel those strong arms wrapping protectively around his slim frame.

They’re silent for a moment, and then Bucky rolls onto his side and says, “Hey, Stevie, can I ask ya somethin’?”

Steve chuckles, turning over to face Bucky. His dark hair spills onto the pillow and his steely eyes glow in the soft moonlight shining through Steve’s window. “You just did, jerk.”

“You know what I meant, you punk,” Bucky grumbles, reaching out and shoving Steve’s shoulder gently. “Really, though, Steve, can I ask ya a question?”

“Always, Buck,” Steve replies, surprised when Bucky takes a deep breath as though he needs to ground himself. Whatever it is, it must be important.

“We’re best friends you and me,” Bucky begins, eyes narrowing as Steve laughs.

“Is that the question?”

“I’m gettin’ to it, Christ,” Bucky huffs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “You ever think about bein’ more? You and me, I mean?”

Steve blinks, trying to process what Bucky’s just asked him. “More than what?”

“More than friends?” Bucky breathes, and the look in the brunet’s eyes is so vulnerable, so open that Steve might cry. Steve’s heart is in his throat and he has to swallow before he can speak.

“Do you?” Steve asks, voice hoarse.

“All the time,” Bucky replies, and suddenly the brunet’s face is just inches from Steve’s. “It’s all I can think about lately, Stevie, and I-” Bucky inhales, eyes darting down to Steve’s lips for a moment. “I just needed to tell you. I needed to know if you could ever feel the same way.”

Steve is stunned, completely unable to form a coherent response. It’s not computing, the fact that his handsome best friend wants a sickly, skinny guy like him when he could easily win the affections of more attractive men and women.

Bucky seems to take Steve’s silence as a rejection. He closes his beautiful eyes and sucks in a breath of air through his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” the brunet grits out. “I should go.”

Bucky begins to roll away from Steve toward the edge of the bed, but one of Steve’s hands snakes out to grasp his arm.

“Wait,” Steve whispers, tugging until Bucky turns toward him, eyes wary. “Goddamn it, _wait_. You can’t spring a thing like that on a guy and expect him to wrap his head around it in a second, Barnes. ‘Specially if that guy’s me.”

Bucky’s quiet, waiting for Steve to continue. So he does.

“I have,” Steve tells him. “I have thought about it. Buck, I’ve been thinkin’ about it for _years_. I didn’t think you’d want somebody like me when you could get somebody better-”

“You listen to me,” Bucky’s voice is sharp, but he’s smiling so wide, and Steve can hardly breathe as the brunet’s hands come up to cup his face. “There’s _nobody better_ , do you understand me?”

“Buck,” Steve breathes, hands curling into the brunet’s t-shirt. “Are you sure?”

“Steve-” Bucky chuckles softly, and Steve trembles because Bucky’s lips are so close to his own that he can feel them. “There are a lot of things in my life I’m not sure about. You have _never_ been one of them before. You’re not one of them now.”

And then Bucky’s kissing him, so soft and gentle, and Steve just _melts_. Bucky’s lips mold perfectly to his, like the brunet was always meant to kiss him. Steve slides his hands upward, finally getting a hold of Bucky’s thick, dark hair, loving the way the other man groans as Steve scratches blunt nails softly across his scalp.

Steve pulls back, panting slightly and smiling. “So you and me, huh?”

Bucky chuckles, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s. “‘Til the end of the line, pal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	27. Smashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuckin’ teenagers,” Bucky growls, guessing he overestimated the guy’s age as he sprints to his door. As he throws it open, he sees his carefully carved masterpiece splatter across the asphalt.
> 
> “Hey!” Bucky shouts, striding down his walkway, taking the shortcut across his lawn despite the fact that he’s only wearing socks on his feet and the grass is wet from an afternoon shower. The wind is whipping, and the damp October air bites through the lightweight sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “Hey, what the hell are you doin’, kid?!”
> 
> **In which Bucky catches somebody smashing his carefully carved jack-o-lantern.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teensy little oneshot. Not quite a meet-ugly, not quite a meet-cute. Hope you guys like it!

Bucky has no idea who the small blond guy walking up to his door is, but he looks _livid_. Bucky’s got a solid view of the pathway that leads up to his home from the chair in his living room, and the short, slender man is pretty much stomping, movements jerky and cheeks flushed.

Bucky wracks his brain, trying to think of anything he’s done recently that could have pissed off a neighbor, as he waits for the doorbell to ring. I mean, yeah, he’d tossed an empty water bottle into somebody’s recycling bin earlier in the week, but there’s no way someone’s coming to chew him out for going out of his way _not_ to litter, right?

But then, Bucky’s found that the suburbs are sort of an odd place to live, so anything’s possible.

The doorbell never rings. Instead, Bucky sees the man dart away from his house, his eyes catching a flash of orange in the man’s arms. It takes him a moment to realize that the guy’s running toward the street with the jack-o-lantern Bucky’d spent several hours carving, but once he does, he’s out of his chair like a shot.

“Fuckin’ teenagers,” Bucky growls, guessing he overestimated the guy’s age as he sprints to his door. As he throws it open, he sees his carefully carved masterpiece splatter across the asphalt.

“Hey!” Bucky shouts, striding down his walkway, taking the shortcut across his lawn despite the fact that he’s only wearing socks on his feet and the grass is wet from an afternoon shower. The wind is whipping, and the damp October air bites through the lightweight sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “Hey, what the hell are you doin’, kid?!”

The blond turns, and Bucky’s first thought is that eyes that blue should be illegal. He comes to an abrupt stop, mouth agape as he takes in the blond. The guy’s definitely not a teenager; Bucky guess he’s probably around 25 or so. The man’s features are sharp and graceful, his lips red and plush against his fair skin. His chest is heaving, and those pretty eyes go from rage-filled to aghast in all of a half second.

“Oh no,” the blond groans. “Oh, _shit.”_

Bucky finally recovers his ability to speak. “Dude, what the fuck? I spent a lot of time on that.”

Bucky motions toward the pumpkin, now scattered across the road in grisly, pulpy pieces. The other guy flushes, clearly mortified.

“First-” the blond sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “Let me just apologize profusely for that and promise that I will be back in a little while with a new pumpkin for you.”

Bucky blinks, surprised. “Um. Okay. So, what’d you do that for if you were just gonna say sorry and replace it?”

The blond flushes further, but explains nonetheless. “Well, see, I was dating this guy. And, uh, it didn’t end real well. I wanted to talk to him, try to get some of my stuff back, and when I got to the door, I just lost it. My, uh, my temper sometimes get the best of me. Anyway, now that I’m really lookin’ around, I think he lives, like, a block over, but these houses all look the same to me. You’re both on streets named after trees and he’s at 45 too. So, again, I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

The blond extends his hand, and Bucky can’t help but chuckle at the look of remorse on his face.

“Bucky,” Bucky shakes the blond’s hand, smiling. “Bucky Barnes. And apology accepted. What’s your name, pal?”

“Steve Rogers,” the other man grins, looking immensely relieved. “And thanks. I’ll just, uh, head out now and I’ll be back in a bit with another pumpkin for you.”

Bucky nods, unable to keep from smiling. _Cute,_ Bucky thinks as he watches Steve walk off down the street, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. _Cute_ and _fiesty. My favorite._

He makes a mental note to try and keep an eye out for Steve when he returns with a new pumpkin.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell rings a few hours later, but Steve’s not there when Bucky opens it.

But a perfectly sized and rounded pumpkin is, as well as a note.

_Sorry again about your pumpkin, Bucky,_  it reads. _I’d love to make it up to you sometime if you’d be interested in meeting for drinks. If not, no worries and Happy Halloween!_

Bucky’s heart swells at the sight of Steve’s phone number and signature. He whips out his phone, searching his contact list and hits call when he finds the person he's looking for.

“Nat, hey,” Bucky greets his friend as she answers. “You busy right now? A cute boy smashed my jack-o-lantern and then gave me his number, and I need help crafting flirty text messages so that he thinks I’m actually cool enough to meet up with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	28. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus Christ,” Steve breathes, grabbing Bucky’s arm and tugging him inside. “What the hell didya do to yourself this time?”
> 
> “Jack-o-lantern,” Bucky shrugs, that same aw-shucks smile gracing his handsome face. Steve’s heart beats a little faster in his chest at the way Bucky’s eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Will you take a look at it?”
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve is a nurse and Bucky is his accident-prone neighbor.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing what a relaxing day off can do to improve your overall mood :) Hope you all had a good Friday and that you enjoy this lil bit of fluff!

“Shit,” Bucky hisses, dropping the carving knife he’s been using to work on his jack-o-lantern and staring down at the angry slash across his palm. Blood, dark red, is slipping into the crevices and making him a touch woozy if he’s being honest with himself.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers, rushing into the kitchen and grabbing an old, but clean, dish towel and pressing it to the wound, hissing at the pain of applying pressure. Blood soaks into the fabric quickly, the white shifting to a startling red, so Bucky grabs a second towel, trying very hard to remain upright.

After a few moments, he removes the towel. The blood hasn’t stopped completely, but it’s slowed enough so that Bucky can get a good look at the damage. He sighs, resigning himself to a trip to the emergency room for stitches.

Except, with his palm lacerated like this, he’s not quite sure how he’s going to get a good grip on the steering wheel. Sure, he could drive one-handed, but he doesn’t like the idea very much. He could call one of his friends or a cab, but he doesn’t really want to wait.

“Fuck me,” Bucky grouses, grabbing his jacket and flinging the door of his apartment open. He looks at the door across from his, so plain and unassuming. He pulls his door shut behind him, takes a few steps forward to the apartment across the hall, inhales deeply, and knocks.

 

* * *

 

Steve Rogers jolts awake at the sound of incessant knocking on his door. He groans low enough so that the person on the other side won’t hear it, pushing himself up from the couch. _Say Yes To The Dress_ is on, and while watching young women try to find their perfect dress usually holds his attention, Steve guesses it just wasn’t enough after the shift he’d pulled today.

Steve stumbles to his door, pulling it open, ready to give whoever’s on the other side a very curt greeting. It dies in his throat as he takes in the sight of his neighbor from across the hall, a bloody towel pressed to his left hand.

“Hey, neighbor-” Bucky grins, rueful and apologetic- “Got a second?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathes, grabbing Bucky’s arm and tugging him inside. “What the hell didya do to yourself this time?”

“Jack-o-lantern,” Bucky shrugs, that same aw-shucks smile gracing his handsome face. Steve’s heart beats a little faster in his chest at the way Bucky’s eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Will you take a look at it?”

Steve sighs, pulling the brunet toward his kitchen table and turning on the overhead light. He pushes Bucky toward a chair, then rummages in the cabinet under the sink for his first aid kit.

This isn’t the first time Bucky’s popped by to ask Steve about an injury. The blond can’t help smiling as he remembers the first time he met Bucky. The brunet had been pounding on his door, and when Steve had answered, Bucky had shoved his arm, a nasty little burn forming on the smooth skin, into his face and said, “Hey, you wear scrubs every day, so I’m guessin’ you’re a nurse or a doctor. Is this bad enough for a hospital visit? Because it hurts like hell.”

Since then, Steve’s seen Bucky once every couple of weeks, the brunet always slightly banged up and asking for Steve’s medical opinion. And Steve’s never been one to turn away an injured person without care.

Especially an injured person with sharp cheekbones and pretty eyes and lips just _begging_ to be kissed.

“Probably needs stitches,” Bucky murmurs as Steve sits down across from him and pulls the towel away, grabbing Bucky’s hand. Steve gets a thrill out of the feel of the other man’s skin against his own. He looks up into Bucky’s stormy gray eyes and smiles.

“Maybe let the guy with a nursing degree be the judge of that, huh?”

 

* * *

 

Bucky can barely breathe as Steve begins to gently clean his hand, the blond’s touches featherlight. He doesn’t even really register the string of antiseptic because he’s too focused on the way the blond’s long, dark lashes look against his fair skin as he gazes down into Bucky’s palm.

“Had no idea you were such a sap, Rogers,” Bucky says, tilting his head toward Steve’s television. A petite blond woman is crying as she states that yes, she _is_ saying yes to this dress. Steve chuckles, continuing to clean out Bucky’s cut.

“It’s soothing,” is the only response Bucky gets.  

Bucky loses his breath a bit as Steve’s too-blue eyes snap up to meet his own, a small smile lighting up his handsome face.

“You really are the most accident-prone person I’ve ever met, you know that?” Steve teases, setting Bucky’s hand down on the kitchen table. Bucky misses the contact immediately, wishing the blond’s large, warm hand was still wrapped around his own. “If I didn’t know what a baby you are about pain, I’d think you were hurtin’ yourself on purpose just to see me.”

Bucky can feel himself flush, an indignant sort of squawk he desperately wishes he could rein in spilling from his lips. “I am not a baby about pain!”

Steve chuckles, handing Bucky a piece of clean gauze from the kit. Bucky presses it to the wound, pouting as he glares at the broad-shouldered man sitting across from him.

“So, you have a problem with me callin’ you a baby-” Steve smirks, and fuck, Bucky so wants to lean across the table and kiss that smug look off his handsome face- “But you don’t deny injuring yourself on purpose to spend time with me?”

“Of course I’m not hurtin’ myself on purpose,” Bucky huffs rolling his eyes. “You’re cute and all, Rogers, but if I wanted to see you, I think I could come up with a way of askin’ you out that wouldn’t result in a trip to the ER, all right?”

“Speaking of,” Steve replies, pushing up from the table and grabbing his jacket and keys. “We should get goin’. That does need stitches.”

“I told you it would,” Bucky grumbles, following his neighbor out the door, wondering if Steve’s just messing with him or if the blond’s trying to give Bucky an opening to ask him on a date.

Well. Maybe tonight he’ll get up the courage to give it a shot.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I spent twelve hours here today,” Steve smiles as he settles into the hard plastic chair beside Bucky and hands him a cup of coffee. “I had been home all of forty-five minutes when you came knockin’ and now I’m back.”

Bucky blushes, and _god_ , the pink of his cheeks is pretty. “You don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to. I can just get a cab back once I’m stitched up. Really, Steve, go home.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leavin’ ya here alone,” Steve chuckles. “I was only messin’ with ya. Besides, I’m the only thing standin’ between you and that mother of the kid over there with the eraser shoved up his nose.”

Bucky follows Steve’s gaze, eyes widening as a woman who’s gotta be at least ten years their senior winks at him. Bucky swallows, waving politely before turning his attention back to Steve.

“Unless of course-” Steve smirks. “You’re into that sort of thing. You could be a great stepdad, I’m sure.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Bucky replies drily, tensing up as the woman stands and begins to make her way across the room, eyes locked on him. “Oh, Jesus, I shouldn’ta waved, she’s comin’ over.”

Steve is shaking with silent laughter, unable to contain himself as Bucky glares. “Don’t just sit there laughin’ like a fuckin’ hyena, Rogers. _Do somethin’._ ”

“Such as?” Steve wheezes, clutching his side.

“For god’s sake, anythin’ that’ll get me outta bein’ hit on in an ER,” Bucky pleads, eyes wide. “Steve, _please.”_

 _Well_ , Steve thinks with a grin as he leans forward, taking in the shock on Bucky’s face. _He did say anythin’_.

So, Steve does what he thinks will keep the woman at bay and kisses his neighbor.

 

* * *

 

The soft sound of surprise that leaves Bucky’s mouth as Steve’s lips capture his is completely involuntary. So is the way one of his hands reaches up to cup the back of Steve’s head.

The blond hardly seems to mind, his tongue running along Bucky’s bottom lip. Bucky shivers, opening his mouth and letting Steve in, liking the way the blond’s large hands settle on his shoulders as he kisses the breath from Bucky’s lungs.

“Barnes,” a sharp, female voice calls out, and Bucky jerks back, completely dazed. “James Barnes.”

“He’s right here,” Steve calls back, rising and pulling Bucky upright. It takes Bucky a moment to find his footing, and then Steve’s pushing him in the direction of the nurse. Bucky sneaks a look back, liking the smile on the blond’s face.

“We’re not done here,” Bucky grins as he makes his way toward the waiting nurse.

“Well, I should certainly hope not,” Steve chuckles, waving Bucky off as he settles back into his chair. Bucky can’t wipe the dopey smile off his face, not even as a doctor stitches and bandages his hand a few minutes later.

He figures getting up the courage to ask Steve out won’t be much of a problem now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	29. A Special Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know-” Steve wheezes as he manages to catch his breath- “They sell candy all year round. We’ll be able to buy more for ourselves if we want to.”
> 
> “Yeah, but it’s different on Halloween,” Bucky insists. “Besides if we don’t buy up some good candy for us now, the only stuff left in the store when I run out on Halloween night will be, like, candy corn and tootsie rolls. I have _standards,_ Steven.”
> 
> **In which Steve thinks that he and Bucky have enough Halloween candy and Bucky disagrees.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are a bit crazy this weekend - fun crazy, though, so no worries - so I only had time to work on a really short little ficlet today. I think it's pretty sweet, and I hope you all like it!

“There’s no way this is going to be enough candy,” Bucky grumbles, looking down into the basket his boyfriend is holding. Steve frowns, glances at the bags full of fun-size sweets and then meets Bucky’s eyes. 

“We have three more bags than we did last year, Buck,” Steve chuckles, reaching upward to ruffle the brunet’s hair. Bucky leans down a little so that the short blond can reach, smiling and shaking his head. “How many trick-or-treaters do you think we’re gonna get?”

“We ran out last year remember?” Bucky protests, leaning into Steve’s touch like a cat. Steve’s almost surprised the other man’s not purring. “And I had to run out for more, and we ran out of  _ that  _ too.”

“Which is why we’re buying more this year, you nerd,” Steve snorts, hand on a slim hip as he smirks up at Bucky. The brunet sighs, crossing his arms across his broad chest, pouting down at Steve. Steve bites his lip in an effort to keep a laugh from bubbling up out of his chest, liking the way Bucky’s eyes stray to his mouth, the brunet’s tongue darting out to wet his lips before he drags his eyes back up to Steve’s.

“There won’t be any left over for us if we don’t buy more,” Bucky whines, honest-to-god stomping his foot softly against the linoleum flooring of the convenience store. Steve has to set the basket down he’s laughing so hard. Bucky shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, glaring down as the blond throws his head back, leaning against a shelf so that he doesn’t tip over. 

“I’m so glad you think this is funny, Steve,” Bucky grouses. “But Halloween candy is serious business.”

“You know-” Steve wheezes as he manages to catch his breath- “They sell candy all year round. We’ll be able to buy more for ourselves if we want to.”

“Yeah, but it’s  _ different _ on Halloween,” Bucky insists. “Besides if we don’t buy up some good candy for us now, the only stuff left in the store when I run out on Halloween night will be, like, candy corn and tootsie rolls. I have  _ standards,  _ Steven.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chuckling as he picks up the basket. “You are a child, Barnes. Fine. Grab a couple of extra bags.”

Bucky’s steely eyes light up and the smile on his face sets Steve’s heart racing, just like it always does. He whirls, grabbing a couple more variety bags, tossing them into the basket and then grabbing it from Steve’s hands. 

“You’re the best, Stevie,” Bucky grins, leaning down and capturing the blond’s lips in a swift, sweet kiss. He pulls back, a mischievous glint in those beautiful gray eyes as he purrs, “And for your trouble, I have every intention of giving you a  _ special  _ treat when we get home.” 

“Is that so?” Steve chuckles, leaning in to Bucky as the taller man wraps an arm around his waist and guides him toward the registers. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Barnes.”

“You know I’d never trick you, Rogers, not when it comes to sex,” Bucky giggles, ducking to nip at Steve’s ear. “Only the best treats for the man I love.”

Steve shakes his head, laughing as he bumps his hip against Bucky’s. “Love you too, weirdo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	30. Nowhere Else I'd Rather Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s at that moment that the door to Steve’s classroom bursts open and a lanky, dark-haired man decked out in a worn pair of jeans, dark boots and a deep green flannel comes bustling in, a large bakery box in hand. 
> 
> “Uncle Bucky!” Ana shouts as Steve starts, eyes wide with surprise. The brunet tips him a wink, his standard rakish grin gracing those sharp, handsome features. His blue-gray eyes flash with mischief, and Steve’s only grabbing onto his desk to steady himself because Bucky’s surprised him, not because his knees are weak or anything like that. 
> 
>  
> 
> **In which Steve is a teacher with one hell of a crush.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I can't believe there's only one more day of October left. I've got one more story and that's it for this collection. Of course, I'm sure some people will be glad that my full focus can return to my WIPs, but I hope this has been as much fun for you as it's been for me so far :)
> 
> So, little bit a fluff to (hopefully) brighten up your day :) If this one seems a little weak, I do apologize. I had a rare night out and about in the city with friends, so I don't feel quite as on my game as I usually do, but I didn't want to skip a day. I promise I'll be better-focused tomorrow!

“Ana,” Steve addresses the short, willowy ten-year-old helping him with party decorations, squatting so that he’s at eye-level with her. “Do you know where your mom is? She said she’d bring cupcakes and help me supervise the class Halloween party today and it’s almost time to get started.”

The girl bites her lip, shaking her head as she twirls a strand of long, dark blond hair around her finger. Her green eyes, so like her mother’s, look worried. Steve’s known her parents - Clint and Natasha - since college, and was ecstatic to find that their daughter would be in his fifth grade class this year. Nat’s gone above and beyond helping Steve with class events, and it’s unlike her to simply bail without explanation.

“Mom said she’d be here at 11:30,” Ana replies, glancing worriedly up at the clock on the wall which reads 11:53. “I don’t know where she is.”

It’s at that moment that the door to Steve’s classroom bursts open and a lanky, dark-haired man decked out in a worn pair of jeans, dark boots and a deep green flannel comes bustling in, a large bakery box in hand.

“Uncle Bucky!” Ana shouts as Steve starts, eyes wide with surprise. The brunet tips him a wink, his standard rakish grin gracing those sharp, handsome features. His blue-gray eyes flash with mischief, and Steve’s only grabbing onto his desk to steady himself because Bucky’s _surprised_ him, not because his knees are weak or anything like that.

“Hiya, Steve,” Bucky bubbles, voice cheerful as he sets the box down on the table with the rest of the food. “Sorry I’m late. Nat ran into some kinda crisis at work, and I had the day off, so I’m here to help out with the class party. Hey there, kiddo!”

Ana squeals with delight as Bucky lifts her up into a big hug, whirling her in a circle before setting her down.

“Right,” Steve’s head is _not_ spinning because Bucky’s standing mere feet from him. He’s just hungry; after all he did skip breakfast today. “Well, um, you wanna start grabbing those pizza slices and setting them at desks? I figured it’d be easier than letting a bunch of hungry ten-year-olds go after them on their own, you know? Ana, help your uncle, would you? The rest of the kids should be back from art soon. And thanks for volunteering to miss that class to help out with set up.”

Ana giggles as Steve tousles her hair, nodding as she grabs a couple of plates laden with slices of pizza and starts setting them at desks. She chats softly with Bucky as they work, and Steve has a moment to catch his breath while he busies himself getting napkins together.

Steve’s known Bucky almost as long as he’s known Nat and Clint. The brunet and Natasha had grown up together; Bucky’s Ana’s godfather for Christ’s sake. He sees the other man fairly often now that Bucky’s moved out to the ‘burbs from New York, and yet Steve still can’t seem to keep it together whenever Bucky’s around. He trips over his words, stammering and stuttering, blushing constantly whenever the two of them have to interact.

Which, it would seem, never fails to amuse Bucky.

Bucky hadn’t always been a problem for Steve. Sure, the brunet’s always been unfairly attractive, but when he’d lived in the city, Steve had only seen him a couple of times a year at parties and the like. And for most of the time he and Bucky had known each other, Steve had been in a relationship.  

Of course, now that Steve’s been single for a couple of years, it’s very hard not to notice how handsome Bucky is. How smart and funny and kind and utterly _perfect._ It’s sort of maddening, really.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, teach?” Bucky chuckles, sidling up beside Steve, drawing him from his thoughts. “Looks intense, whatever it is.”

“Oh-” Steve looks down at the snacks in front of him, rearranging the bowls to give his hands something to do. “Just, uh, just hopin’ the pizza party goes over well. I mean, I got the OK from all their parents, but, you know kids. Picky sometimes.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Bucky grins, squeezing Steve’s shoulder briefly. Steve manages not to shiver at the touch, but it’s a close thing. “Excited to see you in action today, Mr. Rogers.”

“Um,” Steve blushes, trying desperately not to short-circuit over Bucky calling him Mr. Rogers. “Yeah. Great, well, hey, here come the kids. Thanks for stayin’ to help, by the way. I’m sure you’ve got better things you could be doin’.”

“Better than spendin’ lunch with you and a bunch of fifth graders?” Bucky chuckles, eyes shining. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Steve.”

Steve can’t help the way his stomach flips when Bucky grins at him like Steve’s the sun, and hell, maybe today’s the day Steve finally asks the brunet out for real.

 

* * *

 

Bucky watches Steve as he interacts with the kids, leads them through a couple of Halloween activities as they all munch on pizza and snacks, makes them laugh. They all seem to be enjoying the festivities and they clearly _adore_ Steve.

Bucky can’t say as he blames them. He kind of adores Steve too.

Bucky’s had a crush on Steve for years now, but he can’t quite figure out the tall, handsome blond. From the way Steve blushes around him, the way those bright blue eyes seem to follow Bucky more often than not, the brunet thinks that maybe Steve might be into him. In fact, he’s pretty much positive.

It wasn’t always like that. No, Steve had been dating Peggy Carter, a pretty British woman, for most of the time Bucky’d known him. And while the two of them were together, Steve had been shy, but not quite _this_ shy around Bucky.

And then Peggy’d gotten a job back in London that she couldn’t turn down, and Steve didn’t want to leave the States. So, they’d ended things amicably, if sadly, and since then Bucky’s been trying to figure out if maybe he’s got a shot. But handsome, sweet Steve Rogers is just about the most skittish guy Bucky’s ever met, so Bucky’s been hesitant to ask him out.

Because what if Bucky’s _wrong?_ What if Bucky just makes Steve supremely uncomfortable and the guy’s just humoring him because he’s Nat’s best friend? God, that would be embarrassing. Best to just let Steve come to him. Although, at the rate Steve moves, they’ll both be about a hundred years old before they ever go out on a date.

“Hey, mister,” a boy calls out, waving at Bucky to get his attention, and Bucky blinks to try and clear his thoughts. Steve’s eyes dart up toward the child and he starts moving toward his student, but Bucky waves him off.

“I got this one, teach, relax,” Bucky chuckles, leaning down to see what the kid needs. Once Bucky’s got him set up with another juice box, he makes his way over to Steve, smirking.

“You afraid I can’t handle ‘em, Steve?” the brunet murmurs as Steve turns out the lights and starts a movie for the kids. “You know, I’m a godfather and honorary uncle. I don’t mind children.”

“They’re different in packs,” Steve whispers, grinning, and Bucky can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes him. Steve looks pleased with himself. “Hey, you got a sec to step out into the hall? They’ll be fine for a few minutes now that they’ve got a movie.”

Bucky nods, curious as he follows Steve out the door, leaving it open just a crack so they can hear it if things get out of hand.

 

* * *

 

 _Now or never_ , Steve thinks to himself as he takes a deep breath, then turns to Bucky with a smile. _You can do this; it’s no big deal._

Of course, another part of his brain is shouting, _What are you doing? You can’t just ask the guy out for god’s sake. Just because he took the time to help out today doesn’t mean he’s interested, you idiot._

But if Steve doesn’t do it now, he’s not sure he’ll ever get up the courage again. So he goes for it.

“So, I just wanted to thank you again for steppin’ up for Nat today,” Steve starts, running a hand through his hair and smiling. “Really, they might have rioted without the cupcakes. It was really great of you to take time out of your day off to do this.”

Bucky shrugs, grinning, “Well, Nat asked, and I certainly wouldn’t wanna leave you hangin’.”

“I appreciate that,” Steve chuckles, glancing down at his shoes before meeting Bucky’s eyes. “I’d, uh, like to show you how much if you’d be amenable.”

Bucky’s smirking, and _Jesus_ , that expression never fails to set Steve’s nerves on fire. “Oh, yeah, teach? What’d ya have in mind?”

Steve takes a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate as he says, “Dinner sometime this week? Don’t feel like you have to say yes if-”

“Steve-” Bucky chuckles, grasping Steve’s hand, and it’s like there’s an electric current running through his body- “Are you askin’ me out?”

“I guess I am,” Steve huffs out a laugh, positioning his hand so that their fingers intertwine. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and the way Bucky’s smiling at him isn’t helping that a bit.

“About damn time, Rogers,” Bucky chuckles, squeezing Steve’s hand and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “I was wonderin’ if you’d ever get around to it. Pick me up at eight tonight if you’re free?”

“I’m free,” Steve breathes, wishing that he could press Bucky up against the wall and kiss him until they’re both breathless. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Good,” Bucky chuckles, releasing Steve’s hand. He misses the warmth immediately. “Now, let’s get back in there and supervise these impressionable children like responsible adults, huh.”

Steve laughs, nodding and following Bucky, his heart rejoicing.

He’s got a date.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	31. Hang On To That Fiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Natasha,” Steve sighs, his gaze straying to the redhead as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “My mother was an Irish Catholic who didn’t believe in ghosts. I really doubt trying to contact her in the great beyond would work even if I wasn’t a skeptic. Which I am."
> 
> “It’s Hallowe’en, Steve,” Natasha persists, tugging him toward the booth, and Steve reluctantly follows. “Besides, it’s only five bucks. What’s the harm in trying, huh?”
> 
> **In which Bucky is a medium and Natasha convinces Steve to try to contact his deceased mother.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. This is it. This is the last October story. I honestly can't believe I managed this. 
> 
> This is for WolfenM who wanted to see Bucky as a psychic/medium helping Steve to connect with his mother. Hopefully I didn't make any major mistakes; I grew up Catholic and I'm agnostic now, but I did my level best to do some research and make this as realistic as possible :) Hope you all enjoy this one and Happy Halloween!!

“Come on,” Natasha pokes Steve, then tosses him a jacket. The small blond is curled up on their couch, half asleep, and opens one bleary eye as the outerwear hits him in the face, a soft sound of protest spilling from his lips.

“Why?” Steve asks, stretching as he sits up, blinking owlishly. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” Natasha replies, wrapping a scarf around her neck and pulling on a pair of boots. “You don’t get out enough and there’s a fall festival in town. We’re going.”

Steve sighs, pulling the jacket on and heading to his room to grab a pair of sneakers because he knows trying to win an argument with Natasha is about as useless as it gets.

“I don’t suppose telling you I’d rather stay in with popcorn and a movie is going to work, is it?” Steve calls as he walks back into the living room of their apartment. Natasha smirks, shaking her head as she pulls a hat over her curls.

“Nope,” the redhead grins. “It’s Halloween and the apartment complex doesn’t get trick-or-treaters, so you and I are free to enjoy a lovely, brisk evening outdoors. Hot cider, tasty snacks, a little people watching. Besides, you barely get out anymore since-”

Natasha pauses, unsure of how to proceed. Steve senses the tension in her immediately and smiles softly, shrugging.

“Since my mom passed,” he replies. “I know. It’s still kind of fresh, Nat. It’s only been three months.”

“I know, Steve,” Natasha wraps an arm around her friend, squeezing gently before pulling back. “I just worry about you. Sarah wouldn’t want you to isolate yourself like this. I just think it would do you some good to get out of the apartment for a bit.”

Steve sighs, motioning toward the door. “All right. Lead the way, then.”

 

* * *

 

Five days a week, Bucky Barnes works a thankless job in the customer service department at a big bank. But several nights a week, every weekend and at a couple of his town’s seasonal festivals, Bucky leaves the humdrum world of finance and earns extra cash reading palms and tarot cards and gazing into a crystal ball.

The side job is the reason he’s sitting at a booth at the annual fall festival, decked out in a white linen shirt, a deep purple coat and tight black pants. Silver rings circle  each of his fingers and his steely eyes are lined with black. Sure, the getup is _beyond_ cheesy, but he’s not going to get any takers if he shows up to these things in jeans and a flannel.

Bucky watches the crowds passing by his booth, smiling warmly at anyone who glances his way. He’s had some interesting people stop by tonight: a couple of teenage girls who were very concerned with their love lines, an old woman who wanted to try to contact her recently-deceased parrot and a young man who uncomfortably inquired as to whether or not Bucky could tell him if he’d get a particular job he’d applied for recently. Bucky’d dealt with each of them with all the flash and pizzazz expected of him, and they’d all left with smiles on their faces.

Bucky bills himself as a medium, and he guess it’s not _technically_ a lie. Sure, he’s never made contact with the spirit world on purpose, but it’s not unusual for him to catch sight of apparitions in historic homes and buildings, and sometimes he finds he just _knows_ things about people he’s never met before. Once in a while he gets these weird precognitive flashes. Some of them come true; some don't.

But most of Bucky’s business relies on his keen observational skills and his ability to read people. His maternal grandmother, a Romanian woman named Elena, had taught him all the tricks of her trade, although Bucky’s got a feeling Bunică had the same strange gifts that he has.

Bucky shakes himself from his thoughts, taking a sip of cocoa as a redhead looks his way, an eyebrow quirked as she studies his booth. The woman turns to a short, slender man with sandy blond hair and elfish features, pointing Bucky’s way. Bucky smiles when the two of them look up at him.

The redhead smiles back, but the blond frowns, brow furrowed as he studies Bucky and the booth. He turns to his friend, shaking his head and trying to tug her along. But the woman digs in her heels, and Bucky can see the resignation on the blond’s face as his friend drags him over to Bucky.

Bucky just keeps smiling.

 

* * *

 

“Steve, look,” Steve turns toward Natasha as she pulls on his jacket’s sleeve, his gaze following her finger. Steve takes in the booth, the sign advertising palm readings, tarot card readings, crystal ball gazing and seances. He studies the young man sitting behind the booth. The guy’s got long dark hair which is pulled back into a messy bun and large eyes lined with kohl. He’s handsome, Steve thinks, as he admires the way the man’s deep purple coat contrasts with his lightly tanned skin.

“You know the veil between the spirit world and ours is at its thinnest tonight,” Natasha continues. “And that guy’s a medium, or at least he claims to be. Maybe you could talk to your mom tonight. See how she’s doing.”

“Natasha,” Steve sighs, his gaze straying to the redhead as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “My mother was an Irish Catholic who didn’t believe in ghosts. I really doubt trying to contact her in the great beyond would work even if I wasn’t a skeptic. Which I am.”

“It’s Hallowe’en, Steve,” Natasha persists, tugging him toward the booth, and Steve reluctantly follows. “Besides, it’s only five bucks. What’s the harm in trying, huh?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just follows Natasha toward the smiling stranger.

It is, Steve reflects, a very nice smile.

 

* * *

 

“Hello there,” Bucky stands to greet the redhead and the blond, ever-present grin on his face. “How can I help you on this fine Hallowe’en, friends?”

“Hi,” the redhead smiles, extending her hand. “I’m Natasha. This is my friend Steve. We want to get in touch with Steve’s mom.”

Bucky can feel his eyes widening in surprise, but he nods as Steve’s eyes - a stunning blue the color of a cloudless summer sky - meet his own warily.

“All right,” Bucky replies. “I’m James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

“Seems like a weird name for a fortune teller,” Steve’s head is tilted to the side as he continues to observe Bucky. “Too plain.”

_He’s cute_ , Bucky muses as he laughs, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder before walking over to a small tent beside his booth, pulling one of the flaps aside.

“Well, that’s the name I’ve got,” Bucky smiles, motioning for the two of them to move forward. “Follow me inside, please.”

“Why do we need to go in there?” Steve asks, arms folded across his small chest, and Bucky can’t help chuckling at the stubborn set of the blond’s jaw.

“You don’t need to worry, Steve,” Bucky replies, pulling back the tent flap and motioning the two of them toward the entrance. “I just like to give people trying to get in touch with their deceased relatives a little bit of privacy. It can get emotional.”

Steve blinks, and replies softly, “Oh. Ok.” Then he follows Natasha into the tent.

“All right, then,” Bucky rubs his hands together as he enters behind them. “Have a seat at the table and we can get started.”

Steve and Natasha sit as Bucky pulls out three white candles and sets them in the center of the wooden table. He lights them quickly, blowing out the match when he’s finished. The flames burn merrily in the dimness, casting dancing shadows across all of their faces. There’s already a bowl filled with apples in the middle of the table, so the gift of food’s taken care of. Bucky settles into a chair, nodding to Steve and Natasha in turn.

“First, we need to join hands,” Bucky instructs them, reaching out his arms to the two of them. Natasha grabs his left hand with no hesitation, but Steve doesn’t move.

“Don’t you need your money first?” the blond asks, blue eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin, hard line.

Bucky shakes his head and wiggles his fingers until Steve begins to reach out. “No, we’ll take care of that when we’re done. I don’t make people pay for seances until after we’re finished. I can’t always make contact.”

Steve still doesn’t look convinced, which is fair, because Bucky hasn’t actually ever made contact. But since he doesn’t know that, he grasps Bucky’s hand anyway. The moment the blond’s small hand is encased in his own, Bucky feels an electric current roll through his body. From the wide-eyed look of shock on Steve’s face, he felt it too.

“Is that normal?” Steve whispers, and Bucky smiles, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“Every seance is different,” Bucky replies, voice steady and even despite the fact that he’s buzzing like a livewire. Because the truth is, nothing like _that_ has ever happened as Bucky’s preparing to make contact - however unsuccessfully - with the other side. “Now, I’ll need your mother’s name.”

“Shouldn’t you just know it?” Steve huffs, back to looking annoyed and suspicious.  Bucky can feel Natasha’s leg as she kicks at her friend, and Steve winces as she connects. “Ow! Well, shouldn’t he?”

“It’s easier to make contact if I have a name,” Bucky explains, keeping his voice low and even. “I don’t want to find the wrong spirit, Steve.”

The blond doesn’t look convinced, but replies, “Sarah. Sarah Rogers.”

Bucky nods, taking a deep breath and saying, “All right. Take a moment and say a prayer to whatever deity you believe in. If you’re not religious, just imagine a bright white light around the three of us, warm and protective. It’ll keep us safe.”

“From what?” Natasha hedges, and Bucky tries not to smile at how nervous the redhead looks.

“It’s just a precautionary measure,” Bucky soothes. “I doubt there’s anything nearby that would want to hurt us, but it’s best to be careful. Now, go ahead and take a moment, and then everyone clear your mind as best you can and we’ll try to connect with Sarah.”

 

* * *

 

“There’s a sheet of paper in front of each of you,” Bucky murmurs a few minutes later, and Steve glances down at the white rectangle. The candlelight leaps against the page, but Steve can make out the words printed on it just fine. “Read along with the incantation as I recite it. Address Sarah Rogers by name. We’re going to repeat it three times and then wait for her spirit to respond. Understood?”

Bucky eyes are half open, but they’re unfocused and far away, so instead of nodding, Steve whispers, “Understood.”

The whole thing feels a little absurd to him as they being, but if Steve’s being honest with himself, he is desperately hoping this works. He just wants to know that his mother is all right, wherever she is.

“Beloved Sarah Rogers,” the three of them begin in unison. “We bring you gifts from life into death. Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us.”

They repeat the phrase twice more, and then wait, a tense, pregnant silence filling the room. There’s a strange, crackling energy around the three of them, and all the hair on Steve’s body is standing at attention. He glances over at Natasha to see the redhead staring at him, her green eyes wide with surprise.

Bucky’s head snaps forward, his chin resting on his chest as he begins to tremble. Steve can feel the vibrations where their hands are connected, and he’s tempted to pull away, but Bucky’s grasp on Steve is incredibly tight now.

Bucky’s head snaps back up, and then he speaks.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” the voice is deep and male, but the teasing tone is so unmistakably his mother that Steve nearly bursts into tears. “Now, what would Father O’Reilly say if he knew you were trying to speak with your mother through something other than the power of prayer?”

Steve swallows past the lump forming in his throat and manages to croak out, “Hi, ma.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky’d known something was coming the moment Steve Rogers had grabbed his hand, but _this_. This is beyond _anything_ Bucky’s ever dreamed of.

Sharing your body with a spirit, Bucky now knows, is simultaneously one of the best and strangest  feelings a human can experience. Well, as long as it’s a benevolent spirit like that of Sarah Rogers. Bucky can see her clearly, a wide, warm smile on her pretty face. She’s got fair skin and bright blue eyes, just like her son’s, but her hair’s a shade or two darker than his. She fills Bucky with a warm, radiant light as she gazes upon her son.

“Hello, Steve,” Bucky hears his voice, but it’s not really _his_. Right now, he’s just Sarah’s mouthpiece, and with the way Steve’s eyes soften, the gentle smile that curls across his lips, there’s nothing else Bucky’d rather be. He’s seeing Steve the way Sarah sees him, utterly beautiful, her precious baby boy. “Are you all right, doll?”

“I am,” Steve replies with a shaky laugh, and god, this man is _gorgeous_ , Bucky thinks. How had he missed that before? “Are you all right, ma? You somewhere good?”

“I am,” Sarah replies, and Bucky can feel his lips smiling. “It’s warm and there’s a lot of green here. It’s very peaceful. And I don’t hurt anymore.”

“Good,” Steve answers, a few stray tears escaping his lovely eyes. “Good, ma. I just wanted to know that you were all right, That you were happy. I miss you, ma.”

“I miss you too, doll baby,” Bucky hears himself sigh, and suddenly the warmth emanating throughout his body is tinged with a cold sadness. “Honey, I miss you so _much_. But I’m always with you, all right?”

“Yeah,”  Steve chokes out, smiling through his tears. “Yeah, I know you are, ma.”

“I can’t stay long,” Bucky hears himself say, voice filled with regret. “We can never stay long once we’re gone. That’s what the others here say. But I love you, Stevie. Don’t you forget that.”

“I love you too, ma,” Steve’s voice hitches as he laughs. “And I won’t.”

“Goodbye, doll baby,” Bucky shudders as he feels Sarah begin to slip away. “And remember to thank the nice young man I’m speaking through. He’s awfully handsome, Steve. Maybe take him out for coffee to thank him?”

Steve barks out a laugh. “I’ll think about it, yeah. Goodbye, ma.”

There’s a flash of light inside of Bucky’s head that’s so bright he thinks he might go blind, and then there’s nothing but black and a whispered, “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

For a moment, Steve thinks Bucky might be dead considering how quickly his chin drops down to his chest. But then those stormy eyes are blinking open and the brunet is shaking his head as if to clear it.

“Holy shit,” Bucky’s voice is hoarse and disbelieving, his eyes wide. “That was... _Christ_. Blow out the candles, would you? I need to catch my breath.”

Natasha leans forward, extinguishing the flames, then rises and starts for the exit. “I’ll just give you two a moment to chat.”

And then it’s just Steve and Bucky, sitting and staring at one another, trying to process what’s just happened.

“You know,” Steve finally manages to speak, and he can feel a smirk turning up the corner of his lips. “It almost seemed like you’d never done that before from the way you just reacted.”

The brunet blushes, ducking his head as he rubs the back of his neck. “Truth be told, that’s the first time I ever made contact with the other side during a seance. I see things sometimes; apparitions, you know? But I guess I’ve never had the right energy for it during one of these until-”

Bucky pauses, regarding Steve with his large, solemn eyes. Then a small smile begins to break across his face.

“Well, until you, I guess,” Bucky chuckles. “You had so much _hope_ in you. You wanted to believe it would happen, that she would come, and you believed hard enough that she did.”

Steve doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he teases Bucky instead.

“So, that last thing about you bein’ handsome and how I should take you out for coffee,” Steve grins. “Was that really my mom or you just tryin’ to prey upon a man in a vulnerable state to get a date?”

“What can I say?” Buck laughs, finally relaxing in his chair. “Your mother’s got good taste.”

“You got a card so I can call ya?” Steve asks, rising from his chair and following Bucky out of the tent. Bucky reaches into the pocket of his coat and handing Steve a laminated business card with a smile.

“Look forward to hearin’ from you, _Stevie_ ,” Bucky winks, then reaches out to shake Steve’s hand. “Happy Hallowe’en.”

Steve chuckles, gripping the brunet’s hand tightly, before releasing him. “Happy Hallowe’en, Bucky. And thank you.”

Steve reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Bucky’s gentle  hand on his arm stops him.

“Hang on to that fiver,” Bucky teases. “You’ll need it for our date.”

Steve just grins and nods, waving as he heads away from the brunet and his booth.

“You see,” Nat whispers, a smirk gracing her pretty features as she loops her arm through Steve's and the two crunch across the fallen leaves littering the ground as they walk off. “Told you it’d do you good to get out of the apartment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for reading, for your support and encouragement, and for just being lovely people. If you submitted a prompt and I didn't get around to it, I do sincerely apologize. Please feel free to send me another, and I'll do my best to get you something. A couple of the prompts weren't strictly Halloween-y, so I do intend to use them at some point in November :)


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